#thank you for sparing my poor fingers with the boop backs

[chittychittyyangyang]

Since I don’t want to flood your inbox I shall bestow you here a million boops. So many boops you won’t know what to do with them. Boop boop :)

[zillyeh]

Storm Season (1/???)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 1749

Content warning: N/A

Synopsis: Voss comes back from the fleet and makes a new friend. :)

Google Doc

The docks of Delhon rarely saw fleet ships returning, but when they did it was so often for bad reasons. After all, returning soldiers tended to… shy away from reuniting with their lovely home city. For whatever reason.

Voschi watched the docks from a few streets up, the ship that just dumped him and a few others back to Alternia buzzing with trolls ready for liftoff. Cigarettes had been the first thing he’d gotten once his land legs were back, and this uphill corner store had the best vantage point. It was… bittersweet, to say the least. Not being allowed back. Ever. The nuisance he’d made of himself was apparently too much to keep around after his mysterious, doubly fatal accident. Not enough to leave him dead, though. He’d miss his position, the degree of respect he was owed. And maybe Vassal. A little.

Yet the freedom of being bound to pavement once more was… exhilarating. The rude, aggressive sounds of the upper city, the loud argument about something happening a few streets over… There was something beautiful about Delhon’s crust. Homey. Comforting. But perhaps that was the cigarettes- cheap lung rippers that he’d missed more than anyone he’d ever known here. It probably wasn’t good for him in the long run, especially considering his semi-recent recovery from some major head trauma, but it felt good now. 

Right now, this was all that mattered, loitering outside this corner store with his bag slung over his shoulder. Worrying about the rest of his life wouldn’t do him any good, and yet... Did he still have a hive, even? He hadn’t been gone that long, but still… Considering the circumstances of his, er, discharge, he hadn’t exactly been set up with anything substantial.

“Spare a light?” Came a voice, shaking him out of his thoughts. It took a moment for him to realize that was addressed to him, and another to fully take in who it belonged to. His heart jumped, setting off his pulse in ways he hadn’t felt in a good long while.

A young-but-still-older-than-him anon. Clearly jade though, judging by the fangs. He had gorgeous, long curly hair, with a bit of chin… scruff felt too… low class for him, but that’s what it was. He was far too well put together for this part of town. Too… buttoned up and tucked in and shiny. Voschi’s mouth was almost too dry to answer him.

“You’re too pretty too be smoking.” He replied, more hoarse than usual. The troll laughed, his fangs shifting with his lips in an absolutely fascinating way.

“No would suffice, sweetheart.” He said, an amused smile perking up the corners of his mouth. “Suppose I’ll go have to buy another lighter, then…”

“Wait- no, here-” Voschi fumbled in his jacket pocket, thoroughly caught off guard by sweetheart. “Sorry, I just- here it is.” The troll held out his cigarette for Voschi, who struggled to remember how lighters worked for far too long not to notice. This guy was weirdly patient, at least.

“Thank you, baby.” He said daintily, with a flutter of his eyes. “What brings you to-”

The sudden, loud rip of the fleet transfer ships engine stopped the whole street as it took off from the water. Voss winced hard as it rattled his damaged head. Definitely wasn’t going to be missing that one any time soon. 

“My, that answers that question.” Grumbled Voss’ smoking buddy, unfurling his massive ears from under his hands. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew out an annoyed cloud of smoke. 

“Worse on the inside.” Voss snorted. “Believe me.”

“Going to have to.” The anon sighed, eyeing the ship’s ascent back to its mother, just barely visible in the thick atmosphere over Delhon. “Never had the luxury myself.”

“Quite the luxury.” Voschi said with a roll of his eyes. “They really roll out the pink carpet when they toss you back out, big ol’ thing. Lucky I could drag myself outta the adoring public when I did.”

“Oof, bitter are we?”

“Little bit.” Voschi eyed this stranger. The heel of his shoes made him just taller than him, and they were nice. Sexy. Expensive, as sexy often was. The stance was… relaxed, subtly intimidating, all too familiar. “Surprised you never been up though. You got an air about you, mister.”

“An air, sweetheart?” He asked, quirking a thick eyebrow.

“Authoritative type. You definitely been bossin’ people around for a hot minute.” 

“Oh, have I?” The way he watched Voschi was careful, curious, perhaps a bit excited somewhere in there too. “I'd like to hear your theories.” Voschi scratched the scar on his chin and hummed.

“Lemme see… Not fleet, less you’re lying to me for some reason, in the wrong part of town to be the overlord of some office building even though you sure look like you could be. You could be a cop. Or a caverns overseer.”

“Caverns?” He interjected before Voss could pitch another guess. Voschi shrugged.

“C’mon man, it’ll take a lot more than a couple of grey contacts to hide the scent of jade. Fangs I coulda given you- if they were stationary. Plus jadebloods are always prettier, in my experience.”

The “anon” put his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue, looking somewhere between annoyed and impressed. Of course Voss was right, because rarely was he wrong. A sense of pride- smugness really- he hadn’t felt in a while bubbled up inside him. 

“Fascinating. They let you go?”

“Gets annoying after a while, apparently.” He said nonchalantly as he could with a crooked smirk crawling up the side of his lips. “Got a smart ass mouth on me.”

“Oh I can see that, detective.” Mr. Totally Not Jade hummed, almost to himself. “Looks like someone tried to fix that too, huh?” Voss laughed and ran his tongue across that scar, the one marring his lip to the edge of his chin.

“This?” He asked, with a grin. “Yeah, got this one mouthing off to a cop down here a while ago. Mighta deserved it, but still wasn’t very nice.”

“Poor mouthy baby.” He tutted. “Well I do hope that mouth of yours doesn’t get you into any more trouble back planetside, sweetheart. Hate to see you all ripped up Mr…”

“Horjan. No, you can call me Voschi, Voss. Whatever.”

“Oh that’s pretty. Voschi.” The way he said Voss’ name made him shiver. Nearly blush, even. Maybe that was the weather, though.

“Uh, thanks, Mr…”

“Aarika.” Mr. Aarika said, extending a hand. “Mr. Aarika works fine.”

“Uh huh.” Voss said, shaking that hand and… not exactly confirming his blood color theory. Freezing hands like that meant one of two things, and he didn’t like Mr. Aarika for a fish. Though you could definitely fit fins in those ears of his...

“Rainbowdrinker?”

“Gracious you’re observant, Voschi.” Aarika said, daring to boop him on the nose. “Perhaps too much for your own good.”

“Had my hands on a couple of you before.” Voschi shrugged, feeling his heart beat just a bit faster. “Cadavers too, ‘bout the same temperature. Drinkers are warmer though. Slightly.”

“I can see how this could be annoying now.” 

Voss laughed harder than he ought to at that. Mr. Aarika didn’t seem too awfully annoyed, but his smile was… less now. 

“Sorry, been a while since I got a chance to flex the old mind.” Voss stretched his beanie down over his forehead a bit more, as much as his horns would allow. He could feel that new… feature of his starting to peek out. It was both ugly and didn't react well to the winter Delhon air.

“Oh it’s fine, sweetheart.” Aarika said with a wave of his hand. “I suppose you’re going to go use your powers of deduction for good now that you're back, hm?”

“Nah.”

“No? Then what on Alternia are you going to use that big brain of yours for?”

“Dunno what’s up with me after I leave this street corner.” Voss shrugged. “Kind been avoiding thinking about it, honestly.” Mr. Aarika tapped his chin, something of a pout pursing his pretty lips.

“Well that’s rather concerning to hear, honey.” He said, snubbing the butt of his cigarette out on the wall. “Back to Alternia and no place to go doesn’t sound exactly ideal. Especially in this city.”

“Mmh,” Voss hummed. “Don’t I know it.” He half wondered if that was revealing too much. Temporarily homeless and no plans felt far too… victim-y, especially now considering the circumstances of Mr. Aarika’s… diet. Alleged diet? There did seem to be some genuine concern furrowing his brow- or close to it. Hard to read that far into his honesty this early. 

Aarika checked his expensive looking watch- diamonds? That felt far above a cop’s paygrade-  and sighed.

“Well look, Voschi, I’ve got to go but I do hope you figure something out.” His fangs poked up when he bit his lip, seemingly unsure about reaching into his jacket pocket as he did so. Voss watched him curiously as he produced a… card?

“I like you.” He said, twirling the shiny gold thing between his fingers. “If you find yourself too out of luck you can call me, sweetheart. I’m sure we could figure something out.” 

“Bit sudden, Mr. Aarika.” Voss said, quirking an eyebrow but taking the card regardless. It was thick and pale yellow with shiny gold accents. It kind of reminded Voss of a marble column. The text on the front said “Aarika” in fancy gold script, along with a couple different methods of contact. The back had a logo that he swore he’d seen before, but couldn’t quite place.

“Oh feel free to rip that up if my eagerness makes you uncomfortable, darling.” He said with a wave of his hand. “I just can't stand to see a handsome young man down and out.”

“Don’t think I’ll go quite that far.” Voss slipped the card into the pocket with his thin wallet. “Uh, thanks, though. ‘Preciate the offer Mr. Aarika. I’ll see what I can do for myself first.”

“Of course.” He said with a nod. “I do hope I’ll see you around regardless, Voschi. Ciao.”

“Uh, yeah bye.” Voss watched him leave, deeply fascinated by what the hell just happened. At least now he was certain about one thing. He was going to have to call Mr. Aarika at least once, just to hear him say his name again.

[oftenderweapons]

Everyday

Pairing: member x reader 

Wordcount: 300-400 words each piece

Genre: fluff, smut, slightest angst

Rating: suggested 18+

Small announcement

Unfortunately, I couldn't complete Jin's Love Talk scenario in time, since his conversation with Angel is a lot more difficult to handle and I still have some research to do (a lot of educational BDSM talk Yay! And I want it to be accurate and as precise as possible).

To earn your forgiveness, I will publish a double update next week, with Jin's part published on Thursday 1 am GMT, and Yoongi on Saturday at 3 am GMT. (Please don't judge my night owl lifestyle)

Here are some mixed drabbles (watch out for the text mentioned in Joon’s Love Talk) 😉 Also this is unedited, I’ll grammar check it in the morning. Each drabble is about 300-400 words.

Here is my Masterlist!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: dirty talking, spankings, oral male and female receiving, cum play (pearl necklace), male masturbation, breast worship, mentions of role play, mentions of sex tapes, mentions of subbing and pain kink, mentions of nipple piercing.

Namjoon

--  the morning after Love talk --

Sunday morning felt like a nightmare. He asked himself why, why for fuck’s sake he had left. 

You had kissed him, rubbed all over him, pressing your ass on him as you watched the film on the sofa, spooning. WHY!

He grabbed his phone. You were probably still asleep. Unless…? He texted you.

How’s your head? Mine is a mess. 

You don’t know how bad it feels to wake up alone. I felt like eating some tiramisu for breakfast and ruin your underwear. Did you touch yourself last night, after I left?

I thought about you, you know. That perfect ass of yours. How much I want to bite it. God, I want to spank you so bad, Vixen. I swear, if I put my hands on you I’m gonna ruin you. You won’t sit for a week. For all that fucking teasing last night. You don’t know how many times I thought about putting my hand under your skirt. Were you even wearing panties, naughty girl? You bent over at dinner and I noticed that there were no lines on that incredible peach of yours… Wanted to push you down against the table, drag your skirt up and just ram into you from behind. But I wanna take my time. Toy around this mind-blowing chemistry with you, until you’re on your knees begging for me to be your daddy and teach you how to do it right for me. At that point I would finger you nice and slow, the way impatient, hungry girls like you can’t handle. I would make you cum so intensely your legs would twitch merely at the thought of me doing it again. And then I would lie down and have you sit on my face. Cute right? I would help you ride my face with my hands cupping your butt, until you’re dripping all over my face. I want you to look down at me like a queen on a motherfucking throne, Vixen. And right after your second orgasm I would make you roll down so I can fuck you missionary, looking at the face you make the first time I slide into you, those pretty doll lips wrapped around the hand I used to make you cum. 

I know you must be so tight, little one. I can’t wait to leave angry, purple lovebites on your sexy hipbones and thighs, baby. 

Tell me you want that too, little vixen. 

After ten minutes of you not answering, he just headed to the shower, in the hope of blowing off some steam. 

When he returned he noticed the notification. 

My head? No complaints 😉😏

Thank you for the orgasm, daddy. Maybe I could help you with yours now?

Yeah. he was hard again anyway…

Seokjin

-- shortly after the Conversation with Jimin -- 

Water fell heavily on his back. You were laying in bed, your cute pjs making you look like a princess from a fairy tale. 

That princess had your cum all over her chest precisely five days ago.

He pressed his forehead to the tiles. No, a part of him said, but his hand was already there, lingering on his shaft. 

She licked it clean. Scooping it up with her fingers. Grinning at you. 

He hit his head against the tiles in the hope it would help him stop. 

You had your mouth on her panties, you coward? She was so lost she would have told you yes. He thought of your taste. He allowed himself that only once, maybe twice a month. Not because he didn’t like that, but rather because he had probably never done it before. Which seems ridiculous, but apparently his exes weren’t interested in cunnilingus? Was it absurd that he wanted to try with you? 

He dragged his hand up and down, angry at himself. 

He should just get in the bed and make you scream until even the florist at the end of the street knew who’s fucking you so good.

He thought about your hands tied up, about you cumming just with him ramming into you. He wanted to give it to you so hard you even forgot you had a body. He wanted your pleasure to be one with his. Just like last time. 

Not like your previous life was unsatisfactory. But he saw the superior look of bliss, how radiant you had looked the morning after. How easily you had fallen asleep in his arms as he caressed your hair. 

“Jinnie, love.” You called from the bedroom. 

He didn’t understand what came next, he was lost in bliss, your voice and his imagination making him fall in the deepest pits of pleasure. 

Yoongi 

-- after date five, art gallery --

Fuuuuck. He fixed his trousers in the elevator headed to his apartment. 

Rushing through his door, he almost tripped on his shoes as he took them off hastily. He had promised himself he wouldn’t. Yet again, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows propped on his knees. He took off his turtleneck lightning fast, his naked pale chest emerging from the dark cotton that protected him from the chilly spring air. He didn’t actually have enough patience to get rid of his trousers. He let them bunch up at his ankles.

“Kitten.” He whispered shyly, reaching for his hard on. He was so sensitive his hips thrusted up as he gave himself the first stroke. 

Those tits. Fuck. Pressed against his back as you explained a picture to him, the tip of your nose running against the curve of his ear. 

He had wanted to pin you against the white walls of the gallery, like a work of art, get his head under your cute skirt and nuzzle his face against your mound.

And the ice cream. 

He thought he would cum in his pants, with you licking up your ice cream cone, your kittenish licks deviously appropriate to your nickname. And the ice cream dribbling down your hand in thick droplets a couple times. The way you had sucked it clean. 

Fuck, fuck!

He laid down on his back and kicked off his pants, hand still busy on his cock. Half delirious, he turned to his belly, thrusting his hips up into his hand, one arm propping him up. “Fuck, kitten, so good.” He nuzzled his face against the sheets, lost in his imagination. “Love, please. ____.” And with your name on his lips he let himself crumble and dissolve. Crashing, exhausted on the bed he took only a couple seconds before emitting an exasperated cry. He had stained the sheets like a teenager. 

Three times this week. And it was only Tuesday. 

Hoseok 

-- a couple days after his Conversation with Taehyung --

“Are you sure you want to keep it? We don’t have to, sweetie.” He reassured you. 

“You’ll have to leave soon. I know you get frustrated with phonesex. This could help you.” You combed his hair back and booped his nose. 

He hid his face into your neck. “Tell me you’ll see me in Los Angeles. Promise me you’ll come.”

“I promise, puppet.” You held him tighter. 

“The guys hate me when you’re not around. They say I get duller.” He whined with a sad voice. 

“My poor little puppet.” You fondled him. “And that’s not true Hobi. You’re always lovely.” You started waddling, bringing him from the kitchen to the sofa. Waddling always gets him to laugh. 

Indeed, a few seconds later he giggled as you both plopped down on the cushions. He shifted around until he was perfectly curled against you, his head laying on your chest.

“You sure you’re okay with me keeping it?”

“Guard it like your own life, Hobi. You know the risks.” You reminded him. 

“Yes, of course. It’s in my personal luggage. Safe. Don’t worry, seriously. Taehyung instructed me. And I’m pretty sure he travels with a whole library of this stuff.”

You cringed and laughed. “At least he can help you, eventually.”

“Your copy is in the pendrive in the bedside table.” He murmured. “It’s only three weeks until LA. It’s not awful. We can do this.” He tried to convince himself. 

“Just three weeks. You’ve got enough stuff to last you a month.” You kissed his forehead. 

“I love you.” He said, stretching to reach for your lips. 

“I love you too, puppet.”

Jimin 

-- The morning after your sixth date --

He woke up with an awfully painful erection. Probably because the night before you had teased him endlessly and when he’d come back home he’d been too tired to jerk off. 

Pushing up his hips tentatively, he felt the softness of the cotton on his naked body. Turning around he found his spare pillow between his thighs. 

Yes, he huffed out, thrusting his hips harshly. He moaned. He started with a punishing rhythm straight away, pushing so hard his whole back arched over and over.

His hand grabbed his own thigh, using his knees and free arm for leverage. 

The hand on his leg climbed up to his ass, cupping it, slapping it carefully, gently. He wanted you to do that. Grab his ass as he rammed into you. Manhandle him a little. His hand climbed further up, toying wit his chest. 

Shit. He tweaked his nipple, wetting his fingers with his mouth and bringing them back to his pect. His hips stuttered. 

He thought of your mouth. Of your sinful red lips, Of the way you always seemed to have the situation under control. Of the way you make him always feel desired.

Were you touching yourself at the thought of him?

Were you as eager as he was? Having wet dreams about him?

He was tired of this frustration. He fucked harder in the pillow, one hand around his neck, the other gripping his ass, his short nails diggin in the flesh. 

He could only think that your nails would look prettier. Sink deeper. Hurt more. Make it all sweeter.

Taehyung

— around date three or four —

“That lipstick looks lovely on you, Doll.” He murmured, holding your hand as you strolled down the gallery, a big bucket hat over his eyes. “I think I’ll call you poppy. That’s perfect poppy red. How fitting that opium comes from poppies.” 

You looked at him surprised. “Are you saying I’m a drug?”

“I’ve been high on you for the last four days. Since I saw you at the shop. Do you usually strut around in full pin up attire?“ He asked, intertwining your fingers. 

“No, not usually. I was just on my way to a theme party. I figured I could just get ready at the shop. I wasn’t expecting you to come around.”

“Theme party... Were you supposed to be the naughty housewife who can’t just get enough of her husband and has an affair with the poolboy?“ He asked, getting close to you enough to bite your earlobe. Oh, the teasing. He was reckless with it. 

“Tae.” You reprimanded him. You looked around. The gallery was empty since he knew the owner and he had allowed him to come visit behind closed doors. 

“It’s just us, Doll. No worry.“ His arm wrapped around your waist. “I can be your obedient poolboy.“

“Why be the poolboy when you could be my husband, spanking me because I ruined one of his expensive white shirts?” You looked at him mischievously as he cleared his throat. You both stopped in front of a painting. The still nature had a variety of vases with different flowers. Of course poppies were included. 

“There they are.” He pointed to the flowers. “And here she is.” His arm wrapped you up, dragging you closer to him, his mouth dipping to yours.

You thought his spell would wear off, but time after time, his kisses taste wilder. Would it ever become too much?

Jungkook

— shortly after Where, when and how —

Jungkook was laying on top of you on the sofa, and god, didn’t it feel nice...

Nuzzling his face against your chest, he let his hand climb under your T-shirt, meeting the elastic band of your sports bra and slipping his fingers underneath, tracing the outline of your pierced nipple.

“Again, baby?” You asked him, who had already reached his destination.

“I love it. I’m sorry.” His face felt ten times hotter on your neck, his blush apparent.

He made to remove his hand, but you locked it there.

“It’s sweet, it’s just that it turns me on a little.” It was your turn to blush.

“If you want I can just let it be. Really. I mean... Unless you want me to... help you out with... that.” He questioned, doubtful.

“Are you asking me if I need to be fucked?” You asked, unceremoniously, with a grin on your face.

“I mean. I wouldn’t oppose if you asked me to.” He kissed your neck sweetly.

You combed his hair with your fingers. He emitted a low whine, especially when you massaged his nape.

“Would you like to try something, Koo?” You were getting an idea.

He seemed to raise his head like a curious bunny. “Mhmh.”

“Remembered when we tried cockwarming?” You asked, ready for mischief.

“Of course.” He replied. Duh.

“What if we did the same here. I mean, if you kept your mouth there, did your thing until I can’t keep my cool?” You suggested.

“Take off this damn shirt right now.” He replied immediately, lifting himself off to allow you to move.

There we go.

[parischangedher]

we’ll take on the world.

Summary: Ziva contends with her anxiety about the coronavirus...with a little help. The second of my A Very Special Quarantine fic series.

A/N: I tried to portray this topic as sensitively as I could. I’m sorry in advance for any issues/inaccuracies.

TW: Anxiety/panic attacks; very brief Somalia mention

AO3 (Kudos/comments are appreciated!)

The edges of the world grew black as she hastily wiped the sweat from her brow.

Not again, she thought.

Ziva’s heartbeat quickened; she tried to steady her breathing with little success. Looking around in a frenzy, she took in her surroundings in a desperate yet futile act to ground herself. Shoppers with half-covered faces swirled around her. She couldn’t decide whether they were all staring at her, or if she was invisible, simply watching the store’s happenings from above. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

She promised him she’d call if it happened again.

Damn it.

As if on autopilot, she abandoned her shopping cart in the aisle, which had been filled with the contents of their dinner, and bee-lined toward the single-stall bathroom she knew all too well.

She managed to close and lock the door before her legs gave out. Sliding down until her butt hit the floor, she drew her legs up and let her head fall to her knees.

Tears now streaming down her face, she reached up and tore the dreaded mask from her mouth. Crumpling it up into a ball so tight it could probably injure someone should it make contact, she threw it as far as she could across the dirty tile floor.

Her hands shook dangerously as she pulled her phone from her pocket, hating herself as she clicked on his name and held the device to her ear. Why could she no longer manage to keep her emotions in check? Why did it always come to this?

It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful to have him; of course she was. She fought for years to have him. It was the only thing she wanted throughout all of this--besides Tali, which was a given. But she was used to taking care of herself. In her life, she needed to be able to take care of herself. How could she trust herself to take care of her daughter when she could barely handle her own issues? Even still, how could he trust her to do so?

And she had been finally, finally getting better, too.

Damn it.

“Ziva? Ziva?” Tony asked, increasingly concerned at her silence. “Ziva! Are you there?”

“I--yes. Sorry.”

His voice repeatedly calling out to her, once she finally processed it, helped a little to quiet the noise inside her head.

A little.

“Did it happen again?” he asked softly.

She started to nod before realizing that he couldn’t see her. Though, she suspected he already knew the answer. He always knew.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to meet you?”

She was silent for a moment, contemplating.

“No. I just...I just need a minute.”

“Ok.”

She closed her eyes and listened closely to his breathing, forcing herself to slow down and match his. His presence was strong, silent but patient as he stayed in that place with her, until she was ready to face the rest of the world again. As only he could do.

“Ok,” she said after several minutes.

“Ok.”

The word had become their own personal code: A way to communicate without saying too much, without voicing things she wasn’t yet able to voice.

They were pros at reading between the lines, after all.

He stayed on the line with her as she rose from the floor, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She discarded her old mask into the trash can and retrieved the spare one from her bag.

She stared it down, sizing it up as if it was a foe in battle. Analyzing its features, its shape, its strengths and weaknesses. She didn’t realize how long she had been doing so until he spoke again.

“Ok?”

She breathed.

“Ok.”

Tugging the mask on, she forced herself to focus on him as she cautiously opened the door and stepped outside. The store had emptied a bit now; her cart was thankfully just as she left it. Drawing determination from her partner, she marched straight to it and then to the register.

So far, so good.

The clerk working the line she chose to stand in wore a dark, dirty black mask that covered most of his face.

Her breath hitched as the clerk looked on concernedly, hand extended waiting for her credit card.

“It’s ok, Ziva,” she heard in her ear. “You’re ok. I’m right here.”

She forced a smile to the poor man, paid and made it to the car in one piece.

Barely.

“I’m ok, Tony. See you soon.”

---

“Talk to me, Ziva,” he said quietly as they laid in bed. It was close to 3 a.m., but he knew she hadn’t slept yet. He couldn’t, either, when she was hurting this much.

He stroked her arm softly and turned to his side to face her.

“What happened today?”

A part of her wanted to pretend that she was sleeping. But, she knew that wasn’t honest or fair to him. Or to herself--to the larger part of herself that needed him to help her breathe again.

Deciding to be brave for the both of them, she switched on the light and turned to her side, mirroring his actions to face him.

“It’s those damn masks.”

She said it plainly yet in hushed tones, in the hopes that doing so would somehow make it a smaller threat.

He looked on in silent question, giving her the time he knew she needed to elaborate. He took her hand in his and gave it a soft kiss before gently squeezing in encouragement. He rubbed it slowly with his thumb and waited.

“With them on, I feel like I can’t see. I can’t evaluate potential threats. I know there likely aren’t any, but...but still. I can’t see.”

“It’s dangerous not to see.”

“It is.”

He nodded, searching her eyes for what remained unspoken. He saw the fear in them, and it almost killed him.

“What are the other reasons?”

She averted her eyes to his chest, then, and laid her hand over his beating heart.

“They remind me of another, much more...serious time I was unable to see.”

Tears started to form again--in her eyes and in his, this time.

“It reminds me of Somalia, Tony. I know it’s not the same, it was a very long time ago, and I can still technically see, and I’m safe, but still. It does. And I hate it.”

He reached forward and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry, Ziva.”

“I know.”

“Thank you. For telling me.”

“Thank you for listening. And for earlier. I wish I could say it will be the last time.”

“It’s ok,” he said, gently caressing her cheek. “I’m here. Always. And one day, it will be the last time.”

Her silence spoke volumes.

”What?”

“I hope you are right. No, I believe you are right. I do. But until that day comes...I’m not sure I should be out alone with Tali.”

“What?” Tony asked, shocked at her confession. “Ziva. There is no doubt in my mind that if Tali was with you, you would make sure that she was safe, no matter what. Hell, that’s why you started having these moments to begin with. To keep her safe.”

She was tired, and desperately wanted him to be correct. So she relented, and accepted his words as truth. For now.

“Ok,” she said softly. “Thank you, Tony.”

_____

“Ima!” Tali exclaimed as she ran to where her mother had been reading in her bedroom. “Come here!”

“What is it?” she asked, smiling as she placed her worn bookmark carefully in the pages before rising to follow.

Tali grabbed her hand and led the way to the living room, where a crudely-wrapped gift lay on the coffee table. Tony sat near it, waiting for them.

“I have something for you!”

“You do?!” she asked excitedly. She gave Tony a curious look, who just winked at her.

“Yes! Open it!”

“Alright,” she said with a smile as she sat and unwrapped the package.

“My art teacher told us to decorate some, so I made one for you! Abba said you don’t like the others because they’re ugly.”

“Oh wow, Tali. Thank you!”

Tali grinned as Ziva examined the artwork with a touched smile on her face, running her fingers carefully along the edge of the mask.

She had drawn a picture of herself holding each of her parents’ hands. She labeled each of them--Ima, Tali, and Abba--in typical child-like penmanship. There was a bright yellow sun in the corner, haphazard grass below the names and a mass of pink hearts around the family of three.

Tali beamed as she watched Ziva pick the mask up and give it a soft kiss. She then jumped onto the couch and snuggled into Ziva, throwing her arms around her neck.

“It’s not ugly anymore, right?”

Ziva shook her head dramatically, clicking her tongue as she booped Tali on the nose. “Are you kidding? It is the most beautiful mask I’ve ever seen. I will wear it everywhere.”

She pulled Tali close and kissed her head, gently rubbing her back while finally taking another glance at Tony. Her eyes, now misty, glistened as Tony smiled back, raising his eyebrows playfully.

“Mine is much better than Abba’s, too.”

Tony’s eyes widened in a slight panic.

“What do you mean, Tali?” Ziva asked suspiciously.

“He made one for you too, but mine is more pretty. His is boring.”

Ziva laughed, and Tony looked sheepish.

“Tali, that was going to be a surprise for later.”

“Sorry!” she said cheerily, giving Ziva one last hug before hopping off her and wandering off to her room. “I’m going to make some more.”

When she left, Ziva raised an eyebrow back at him.

“So? You made me a present?”

“I may have.”

“Can I see it?”

He chuckled, now taking his turn to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know; it’s not ready really. I need to check something first.”

“Tony,” she said playfully as she rose and joined him on the chair, legs across his lap. “Please?” she asked, elongating the word and softly kissing his neck. “I really do want to see it.”

He smiled, uncharacteristically shy.

“Ok.”

He grabbed the parcel from where it lay in the end table drawer and cautiously handed it over. “I’m sorry if it’s not right, I wasn’t sure about it and wanted to go back to the guy and check--”

“Tony,” she cut him off, having already ripped open the package.

“Is it right? I know it won’t fix everything completely, but I was hoping...”

She smiled and paused for a moment before answering.

“It is...absolutely perfect. Thank you.”

The cloth mask was deep blue. Most of it was plain, earning disdain from their daughter. But, in the bottom right corner, a small and familiar phrase was printed neatly in Hebrew script:

Aht Lo Leh-Vahd.

“You’re crying again,” he said softly as he thumbed away a tear and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I am. But for happy reasons this time.”

“Well, I’ll take it, then,” he replied and pulled her in, kissing her softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

She wore his mask like armor the next time she went out.

She kept Tali’s securely in her pocket, as her backup weapon.

It didn’t take away all of her anxiety; nothing but lots of time and therapy would possibly do that.

But, during a global pandemic, around covered faces and rampant fears of illness, she felt something unfamiliar.

She felt safe.

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

not important, only everything (chapter 1)

For @auripigmentum, because she deserves it. ♥

You can also go and read/follow this story over on AO3.

- - -

▫□▫ family is not an important thing, it's everything ▫□▫  

Jaskier and the guardsman are still talking—yes, almost the entire royal family, no, the sea had been quiet, yes, that is highly suspicious—but Geralt is only half listening, most of his attention focused on the wiggling bundle in his arms.

The princess, Cirilla, his Child Surprise; she seems almost impossibly small cradled in Geralt’s big hands, blinking up at him with big, blue eyes. Geralt vaguely recalls hearing the announcement about her arrival last winter and he frowns, chest feeling oddly tight. She’s not yet been in this world for even a whole year and already she’s had to endure so much. Too much.

And now she’s his. Needing him, depending on him, even though Geralt doesn’t know the first thing about child-rearing.

Gurgling quietly, Cirilla reaches out for Geralt’s thumb and starts pulling it towards her mouth with a determined expression on her little face. Geralt suddenly wonders how thoroughly he’d washed his hands after that ghoul incident yesterday and, wincing when it makes Cirilla let out a noise of protest, tugs his thumb out of her grip.

“She’s probably hungry,” Jaskier muses as he leans in close to peer down at Cirilla. He wiggles his own fingers at her, smiling half-heartedly when it makes her coo. “Poor thing.”

“There are some supplies,” the guardsman pipes up, holding out a tattered bag. Sheepishly, he adds, “It’s not much. We didn’t want to risk getting her things from the castle and being seen. As of now, word is the young princess perished along with her parents and grandmother and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him, though it’s Jaskier who asks, “You believe someone close to the family was involved?”

The guardsman shrugs helplessly. “We don’t know, not yet. And until we can confidently dismiss those rumours, the king believes it would be best for the princess to remain as far away from the chaos in Cintra as possible.”

“Well,” Jaskier says, entirely unapologetic when faced with the guardsman’s glower, “Eist always was the reasonable one.”

“She’ll be safe,” Geralt cuts in, before the guardsman has the chance to voice his disapproval. “You have my word.”

It surprises him, how much he means it. Jaskier, though, is smiling proudly when Geralt glances over at him, as if he’d never thought to expect anything less. Geralt ducks his head and resettles Cirilla in his arms, unable to hold his gaze.

After the guardsman takes his leave, Jaskier shoos Geralt towards the bed before picking up Cirilla’s bag to rifle through it. Geralt sits down carefully and watches, equal parts intrigued and amused, as Jaskier sorts things into piles, muttering quietly under his breath.

“She won’t go cold, at least,” is Jaskier’s eventual verdict as he straightens back up, but he’s frowning ever so slightly. “Although a trip to the market is definitely in order. First things first, however!”

Ten months is old enough to eat certain solid foods, Jaskier informs Geralt while he’s ripping up some soft bread he’s gone downstairs to the tavern for. He dips a small piece into the mug of lukewarm milk he’d purchased along with it, then holds it against Cirilla’s lips. She purses them, then smacks them a few times before eagerly opening her mouth.

“Just like that, clever girl,” Jaskier praises, booping her on the nose. Cirilla shrieks happily and accepts another piece of bread.

Jaskier feeds her until she starts turning her head away from the food and rubbing at her face, looking grumpy. Geralt’s arms feel strangely empty when Jaskier swoops Cirilla up, so he clenches his fists in his lap, looking closely at how Jaskier first burps her, then swaddles her in a blanket from the bag.

He settles her in the middle of Geralt’s bed, pillows on either side of her so she won’t accidentally roll off the edge, humming a soft tune as he does so. He keeps a hand on her tummy, rubbing it in slow circles, until her eyes eventually flutter and stay closed.

Geralt is impressed, although he’d rather bite off his own tongue than admit as much out loud.

“I don’t think she’ll wake before I get back,” Jaskier says, picking up and shrugging on his doublet.

Geralt’s head snaps up from where he’d been looking down at Cirilla. “What.”

“Well,” Jaskier’s tone suggests he thinks Geralt’s being a twit, something Geralt’s become unfortunately familiar with over the last few months of travelling together, “would you like to go out and purchase supplies?”

Geralt would not.

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Jaskier says, clearly reading as much from Geralt’s expression. He lays a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and squeezes gently, though he still looks distinctly amused. “She’s a tiny human and you’re a big, bad Witcher. You’ll be fine.”

Cirilla does not stay asleep until Jaskier gets back. She blinks awake barely half an hour after he’s left, mouth turned down and eyes watery. Geralt realises why she’s unhappy as soon as he leans over her to check on her, gagging a little in surprise at the unexpectedly pungent smell wafting off her.

“This will stay our secret,” he tells her as he, carefully, lifts her up. Geralt takes her answering gurgle as agreement.

Cirilla’s cloth diaper is completely soiled and there don’t seem to be any spares in the bag. Hoping that’s one of the things Jaskier’s out picking up, Geralt undresses Cirilla and carries her over to the wash bucket in the corner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the worst of the mess, Cirilla is whining angrily and, at least to his enhanced senses, still smells as if she’d rolled around in a stable. After a moment of consideration, Geralt calls for a bath.

The innkeeper’s son seems startled at the sight of Geralt with a small child in his arms, but is smart enough not to comment. He does return after carrying in the last bucket of water, though, offering Geralt a piece of soap with a shy smile.

“It’s very mild,” he explains when Geralt just looks at him, “Ma uses it on my baby brother. She also said to wait until the water’s not too hot anymore, ‘bout the little one’s body temperature.”

Geralt grunts out a stiff, “Thank you,” and the boy grins as he scampers off again.

The bath turns out to be a good idea. Geralt leans back against the edge of the tub with Cirilla propped against him. She appears thrilled to be splashing around, waving her arms and kicking her legs, babbling excitedly. She yanks on Geralt’s hair and tries to stick his fingers into her mouth while he does his best to wash her, but is otherwise cooperative, even though she pulls a disgruntled face at him when he has to pour water over her head to wash the soap out of her hair.

The water’s still warm once he’s done and Cirilla’s eyes start to drop again, so he gathers her closer, tucking her against his chest.

He’ll have to get out before too long, though, otherwise she’ll grow too cool. It’s terrifying, the thought that he could harm her, or worse, without even meaning to; sometimes, Geralt forgets that humans are fragile, compared at least to Witchers, and it takes Jaskier complaining about his sore feet or grumbling stomach for Geralt to remember to find a tavern or a place to rest for the night.

And while Cirilla’s definitely vocal, in a fashion, she can’t exactly tell him what she wants or needs. He supposes there’s ways to tell that he just doesn’t know about yet, although Jaskier certainly seems to.

There are nieces and nephews, Geralt thinks, but if there’s one thing Jaskier is reluctant to talk about, it’s his family. He’s of noble birth, that much is plainly obvious, and he’s fondly mentioned older brothers once or twice, though he clams up real quick whenever the subject of parents is brought up somehow.

Wherever Jaskier’d learned to care for children, though, Geralt’s certainly glad he has the skills.

As if summoned by Geralt’s thoughts, there’s a brief knock on the door before it’s pushed open and Jaskier walks in, arms laden with his purchases. “A little help, here, Geralt, if you wouldn’t—” he begins, but trails off when he spots the two of them.

An unreadable expression flits across his face, there and gone again in a flash, and he more or less drops the bags and parcels on the nearest bed. “I’ll just. Supper. Why don’t I go and get us some supper while the two of you finish up here, yes?”

Geralt is left staring at the door until Cirilla shifts in his hold and he decides it’s probably time to get dry.

Jaskier is back to his normal, chatty self when he gets back, filling Geralt in on what he’s bought and what it’s all for while they eat. He shows Geralt how to put a fresh diaper on Cirilla, only laughing a little at Geralt’s fumbling, and approves Geralt’s swaddling technique with a big smile and a nod.

“So,” Jaskier asks, once they’re both settled in for the night, Cirilla still fast asleep next to Geralt, “what’s the plan, here?”

“It’ll turn colder soon.” Geralt watches Cirilla breathe, her tiny chest rising and falling quietly. “Kaer Morhen for the winter, I think, as soon as I’ve gathered enough coin for a wagon and a mule. Make it easier on Roach, if she doesn’t have to carry all three of us plus our things.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Jaskier, but when Geralt glances over at him, he’s trying hard to act nonchalant, absently fiddling with his blanket. Geralt decides not to pry and, after a moment, hears a quiet sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” Jaskier murmurs, turning onto his side so he’s facing Geralt. “Your Witcher keep. What’s it like?”

“It’s—” Geralt closes his eyes against the flood of memories; cold, pain, fear, but also camaraderie, companionship, belonging. “It’s home,” he finishes, mouth twitching up into a smile.

[shreddedparchment]

Shattered Glass Pt.01

Team Building

07/09/2019

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,750

Prompt: “Agh I’ve been hit!” “Calm down Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.”

Masterpost          Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, angst, violent imagery, blood, graphic violence

A/N: I fail. This was SUPPOSED to be a one shot. FML. I can’t do it. It’ll be only two parts. Maybe three if there’s enough content? But probably just two. Don’t hold me to that though. This is my very first Tony-centric fic so hopefully it comes out well. Steve wasn’t supposed to have the part that he has in this one but it kinda just worked itself out this way. This is for @moonbeambucky ‘s #5KWritingChallenge ! When I saw this prompt it screamed Tony. Anyway, I hope you like it! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You’re wounded!

It hurts!

“Ah! I’ve been hit!” You cry, an earth-shattering shout of agony.

You fall to your knees and clutch at the piercing in the center of your chest. Head thrown back in a silent shriek as you die.

“Calm down, Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.” Tony moves up beside you, carefully hidden behind a tall tower of tires. His snark is layered.

The topmost bit is all annoyance and exasperation with your over the top antics. Probably doesn’t like the competition.

The rest has to be amusement. Affection. Fondness. It’s there, though it’s hidden and carefully smothered.

You fall back, laying on the mulch and dirt of the paintball field, relaxed as you breathe in and out. There’s a large splatter of red paint on the front of your vest. You’re shot and the bright light of the setting sun dips between the swaying branches of the tall and aged poplar and spruce.

You give Tony a pout, eyes skillfully pooling. You can fake a good cry if it'll get you what you want.

“It hurts. I’m dead, Tony.” You inhale a deliberate shuddering breath as he moves to kneel beside you, yearning for his sympathy. “Nat killed me.”

He traces the still wet splatter, coating his index finger in the crimson paint as he essentially runs it down between your breasts. What you wouldn’t give for your vest to be gone.

With hazy eyes, the paint might really be blood.

“Maybe you should be paying attention then, instead of flirting with Rogers?” He counters and though usually his voice would be laced with sarcasm, the stern and serious note in it gives you pause.

Everything, every instance of flirtation with Tony has been one-sided. You throw out the bait but he never bites. He never gives away any interest.

Your shallow playfulness subsides as you consider his shift in voice.

You swallow your spit and taste the chemical flavor of paint and gritty earth. It’s acerbic and normally you’d be spitting and gagging but your heart is suddenly racing.

With a lick to your lips you narrow your eyes, taking in the strong set of his sharp bearded jaw, deep brown eyes, full peach lips, “Jealous?”

Your accusation draws his hand away from your chest but you catch it, tracing the length of his finger so slow there can be no question of your intent.

The flex of his arms, tight, lithe biceps straining against the black and gray thermal. The bright shine of his Nano housing keeps it from clinging to his hard chest. He’s ripped though Steve and Sam and everyone else keeps focus away from Tony’s almost obsessive fixation on fitness.

He holds his gun with the barrel pointed up into the air so that he won’t chance accidentally shooting you.

His eyes watch the clean pink painted nail of your middle finger as you continue to stroke his.

Time seems to stop. Not around you.

Around you, everyone is still very much diving and running, swerving and shooting. You hear the peppered cries of those being shot and those doing the shooting.

You can hear Sam swear and Clint laugh. Steve's playful battle cry and Nat's returning shout of surprise. But here in your little bubble with Tony’s hand in your grasp, things flow like molasses.

Fluid and thick, ripe with unsaid desires and forbidden pleasures that until this moment you’d assumed were only yours. You’re too young. You’re the troublemaker. You give him headaches not hardons.

“Why would I be jealous?” He asks, brow twitching as he queries. “You’re not my type.”

That doesn’t hurt. It’s not the first time he’s told you this. His gentle push to keep you at a distance. It hasn’t worked in a long time and it’s not working now. Not with the slip you just saw.

You smile wide, amused by his words. “Too damaged?”

His eyes darken, your past probably flaring into technicolor flashes in his brain, like the violent images of a snuff film and he forcefully takes his finger back.

He clenches his hand, trying to maybe erase the way it felt to have you touch him?

“Too needy.” He corrects then gets to his feet.

Well, damn.

Ouch. That one does hurt.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch him sneak away.

“Guess I’ll just have to find someone willing to fill my needs then.” You throw at him, hoping for some type of reaction, not giving two shits about who might hear you.

Your callous behavior pays off. He turns, fixes those chocolate browns on you and you see the shift. It makes your heart race again. There are flutters in your stomach as the fire blazes in his eyes.

It’s a wild chaotic flame that lasts for only a second before it’s calmed and left to smolder behind his shield.

He turns away and keeps going, gun raised.

He only gets to the next cover before he’s shot.

“Eyes up, Tony.” Steve teases and he looks at you then winks.

Tony drops his arms, staring at the splash of patriotic blue on his vest, then sighs. His suit is deemed illegal and he isn’t exactly great without some piece of his tech around, but damn if that brain of his isn’t sexy.

You smile at Steve, chuckling at his sweet flirting. It’s only playful and you know Steve doesn’t want you but it’s nice to be noticed as a woman instead of the kid.

"That’s the game.” Nat calls, and those left standing move towards the picnic tables where food has been laid out.

Wanda and Vision, first out as they really weren’t as competitive as the other idiots on the team, move about laying out plates and drinks.

Tony marches past where you’re still laying on the ground and doesn’t spare you a glance.

Steve’s boots draw your eyes up and you smile, squinting against the bright orange of the setting sun behind him. If flits through the trees again, gilding his already golden hair.

He offers you his hand and you take it.

“Guess we won.” He says, and you hop as you find your feet.

“Guess we did.” You agree and begin to lead the way back to the rest of the group.

“I was the last man standing.” He tells you, voice not proud, but rather curious.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking back at him with a small knowing smirk. “I know."

You stop a few feet from the group as you turn back towards them and spot Tony’s brightening expression.

It’s that look. The look he only give that one person. The most important person. The one person that he can’t live without. That person that you can never measure up to.

Her perfection. Her politeness. Her sweetness. A sweetness that you will never posses because like you told him, you’re too damaged. Too needy, like he said.

You follow his gaze, already knowing what you’ll find.

A happy Pepper wearing a cute set of work out sweats in teal and blue. She stops and holds out her hands, a look of amused disappointment on her pretty face as she lets them drop to slap against her thighs.

“Did I miss it?” She asks, her easy voice full of love for him. For Tony.

“You missed it. You’re late.” He tells her, adoration pouring from his chocolate browns.

All you ever get is his disenchantment. Disappointment that you aren’t better. That you aren’t more. Not her.

Always to be scolded and corrected.

With a drop of your heart, you stare as Tony marches right up to her and pulls her in for a kiss.

It hurts more than you’ll ever admit. Jealousy is not a good color on you. It makes you reckless and lash out.

“Don’t I get a reward?” Steve asks, again, curious, pulling your attention back to him.

He’s testing the boundaries between the two of you and if he’d done it any other time than right now when Tony’s moving towards you with his arm wrapped around Pepper’s waist, you might not have taken Steve’s bait.

You force your eyes away from the couple and look up into Steve’s storm blue twinkle.

“A hero deserves a prize.” You tell him, then wrap your arms up underneath his to stroke the muscular planes of his vested back.

You push yourself up, getting as close as your paintball gear will let you and kiss him.

It isn’t a chaste kiss either. You tilt your head to the right and suck on his lower lip until he opens up for you and you give his mouth a taste.

Spearmint and the slightest chocolate sugar of his mocha. It’s delicious but all wrong.

When you pull back, his lips remained puckered in shock.

“Thanks for winning the game for us, Cap.” You boop his nose then move to settle into a seat at the edge of the nearest picnic table and lean forward onto your elbows as you spare Tony a glance.

Beside him, Pepper is happily in shock at your display. As is almost everyone else on the team.

“When did that happen?” Pepper asks quietly in Tony’s ear and he gives his head a minute shake.

Your eyes meet his and for one long moment, you silently dare him to say something. As much as he may try to hide it, you can see the flame in his eyes, the jealous edge that cuts at your poor hopeful heart.

More than the snark, the cold fire in his eyes, and the forced calm of his form tells you all you need to know about how Tony really feels about you.

Steve comes to sit by you, leaning in to whisper happy praise for your chosen reward in your ear, and you tear your eyes away from Tony to give Steve your undivided attention.

It doesn’t stop. It never stops. The wanting and the yearning. The need to fill that hole that can never really be filled.

That incessant need to be cared for. To be given affection. That desire to feel desired and wanted.

It’s always there and it’s always been easily met with an invitation to get a cup of coffee with Wanda or Nat. Thor inviting you out for a walk. Sam reaching out for a sparring partner, or Clint needing a live target for practice.

A small gesture of inclusion and your deepest of stirrings is quelled.

You don’t like to think about why you feel this way. You dream about it enough.

Sometimes it’s a small flicker of an image here or the fading memory of something there but lately, it’s coming back vivid and violent.

It always starts out the same.

You’re small. Tiny compared to the two large bodies beside you. One to your left. One to your right.

You lean towards the one on your right at first, clinging to that person’s arm, stroking the soft satin of a fancy dress. It feels nice. It reminds you of that cat from the summer house before it went missing.

You miss that cat and its smooth fluffy fur.

Vermillion. The dress is like a blood-orange, bright and eye-catching but she smells like Chanel. The musk is thick but good, it invades your senses.

You shift on your bed, tossing onto your right.

Images of a beautiful face fill your mind like sudden bursts of color. Twinkling eyes. Full curving lips. Soft skin. An elegant neck. Austere pearls.

She caresses the side of your head then you giggle and lean onto the body on your left.

This one is large. Thick. Heavy. Fat? No. Sturdy. Stocky. Tall and built like a rhino with a rounded belly but he’s not fat.

He chuckles and wraps you up in his large, black tuxedo clad arm. You fist the side of his jacket, stroking this material too but the red satin is far softer. This musky scent is better though.

He smells like wood, with the bitter tang of pepper creosote from his cigar. You don’t mind. It smells like home. He smells safe. He smells like you’re shielded, and nothing can ever harm you.

You toss onto your back, groaning as you frown. Daddy. Your mind thinks.

The ambient whoosh draws you closer and closer to sleep.

You pass out, clinging to him, a tiny smile on your lips.

Life is perfect. The soft babble of their words helps lull you. Her tinkling laugh sounds far away but it’s beautiful and you wish you could laugh like she does.

It makes him chuckle and you can feel the love between them.

They fade away and you’re in darkness. You’re standing alone with nothing and no one around you.

Only, it’s not you. The girl is older. Much older. Like Mommy. Who is she? She looks like mommy too but not exactly. She looks like a cheap imitation. Not as beautiful. Not as sweet.

“Daddy?” You open your mouth to speak and the girl in the darkness opens her mouth to speak too.

You freeze as your young mind catches up with your dream. You’re the cheap imitation.

She takes a step forward, that mock-mommy. She splits into two. The other one turns to look at you and you’re staring at yourself, confused.

“Who-?” You begin to ask but the other one opens her mouth to ask too. “Who are-?”

She cuts you off again. You sigh.

The other you smiles, too wide. It’s scary. Your little child heart thrums wildly as fear and panic bubble up in your tiny guts.

You shift uncomfortably, fighting the terror that begins to spread through you.

She presses her hand to her chest, laying it flat against her breasts before she begins to cup it until only her fingertips are touching your shirt.

You stare at her movements, unsure of what you’re looking at.

It takes every bit of courage not to run.

She pulls her hand away from her chest and then lays it flat out in front of you.

You look down and at the very center of her palm is a small silver gleam, the brightest bit of teal at the very edges. It shimmers and shakes chaotically while the silver sits still, stretching and constricting back into place.

For a moment all you can do is stare at the silver and teal. This light is scary.

You groan, kicking your legs as your hands fist your sheets.

When you look back up at her, her eyes are gone. They are black pools of threat and your little heart panics.

The silver and teal light releases a pulse and you’re blind.

You hear panicked cries. Mommy…she’s scared.

“No.” You whimper.

Daddy’s arm is gone from you and you open your eyes to see that same silver pulsing around you.

“What’s happening?” Mommy asks, “What is that? What’s she doing?”

It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking about you.

Daddy is forcing the steering wheel to the left and the right. The sounds of the tires squealing against the asphalt of the road is loud and nearly drowns out their screams. Almost.

“Hold on!” Daddy shouts, but the light flashes once more and the car is suddenly up in the air.

You can see Mommy and Daddy floating around you. They’re not moving and you’re safe beside them.

It’s all over in one violent tumble.

The car lands with a loud metallic clatter. It rolls and rolls, tossing them around with abandon. You hear their bones crack and break. Femur, humerus, ribs, neck; one sickening crunch after the other.

Crimson paints the air, it paints the car and the pavement beneath.

As the shatter of glass dies and your body falls painfully onto the street between them, you look around, searching for that safety from before. Searching for Daddy. For Mommy.

“Mom…” You cry.

Your eyes meet hers. Dead eyes. Unmoving eyes. She’s gone.

Your own small body feels twisted and battered but not broken. Not like them.

There is no crimson on you that is yours and something in you tells you that it’s you. You did this.

Even as a baby, a little one, you know that you did this. You killed your parents.

“Mom!” You gasp, sitting up with spasms of fear shaking your hands.

They tremble, clutching the thin sheet you’re covering yourself with in tight fists. It all feels so…present.

“Y/N? Your heartrate is elevated. You seem to be having an episode. Shall I alert the infirmary?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s accented voice fills your room with a soft worried whisper.

It always astonishes you, how concerned she seems. Like she’s really genuinely worried about you. Like she can really feel it. Like she’s not just a bunch of ones and zeroes programmed to have just the exact right responses.

“No.” You tell her, and she turns up your lights for you, dimming them up slightly as you throw your blanket off and place your feet on the soft black carpet of your bedroom.

You’re still reeling, trying to come to grips with the here and now and not the lifeless bodies of your parents floating around your head. Instead of your parents, in your room there are several small objects floating above their designated spots.

Your glass jewelry box on your nightstand. Your laptop. Several books on your desk. The picture of you and the team on your nightstand. Your shoes by the end of your bed.

“Are you sure?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. persists. “You seem to be having a fit.”

You scoff. Only one person would call what’s happening that.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Shutting your eyes, you sigh, heartbeat finally leveling out.

“Would you like me to tell Tony-?”

“No!” You nearly scream, rising to your feet and looking for a face though you know there’s none to look at. “No. I’m fine. I just…give me a minute.”

Your stuff falls, crashing back into place. You hear the glass of your jewelry box shatter. You’ll have to buy a new one.

You stumble to the bathroom and switch the light on. Your bare feet slap gently as you cross the cold beige and gold marble tile to the sink with a quiet plap, plap, plap.

The counter becomes your center. You cling to the white concrete desperately as you stare at your reflection in the large backlit mirror.

You’re pale and sweaty. Clammy. Cold trickles of perspiration along your temples and above your lip. With trembling hands, you wipe it away.

This hasn’t happened for so long that it’s caught you off guard. Normally, there’s a build-up. The memories start slowly during waking hours. Small images of lovely people, loving and caring. Over time it all leads up to that night.

The night you killed them.

You shut your eyes tight, wishing the images away. All you can see are your mom’s eyes. Once brilliant with life not dead and staring. Daddy’s body twisted in strange and impossible angles.

You dip down into your sink and down as much water as your belly will let you drink.

It doesn’t help. Maybe a real drink? You have one so rarely. Drunk you is not good with your abilities.

Mistakes have been made. Bail has been paid. It’s how you ended up here. On the team.

Tony should have left me where I was.

The bitter thought falls away as you wander down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Thankfully, it’s empty.

You go straight for the whiskey. You pour yourself too much. You drink it. Then pour another glass before moving to sit at the island.

The brown slosh hurts your throat as it goes down. It burns, but it burns so good. Because you don’t drink very often, just one glass makes you lightheaded. The second pushes you towards unconsciousness.

Not fast enough. You start with it held between your carefully folded left arm, right hand clutching the small old-fashioned crystal glass tight as if you’re afraid it might get snatched away. As you drink, you drift forward until your heated cheek is pressed against the cool counter.

You kick your legs, swinging them casually as you stare across the kitchen at the fine, black modern cabinet. Not really seeing it but playing the moment you killed your parents over and over and over.

You see other moments too. The moment your godparents saw you use your abilities. They watched you with terror in their eyes. The next thing you knew you were in a home for girls.

You see the nice couple who took you next. Then the girl’s home again when they too became terrified of you. Then the next. A faceless couple that you were with for only two days. Then the next two were also faceless.

You lived your adolescent life out in the home.

You see yourself on your eighteenth birthday. You’re excited, dancing with the prospect of becoming a “real” woman. Or so you’d thought at the time.

You come home, smiling at the promise of the cheap birthday cake that you know you’ll get. You see your smile waver as you approach the fence of the home and two boxes full of your things are piled on the sidewalk.

Two homeless women are rifling through the clothes. Fighting over your favorite pair of jeans.

You scamper towards them, hold out your hand and you don’t mean to slip up. You don’t.

Stunning silver-teal burns them. They fly back several feet and crash against the sidewalk painfully as you hold your hand out towards them, palm open.

You shut it quickly and turn away from them as they stare at you with hate and fear. You hurry and shove your clothes back into the box they’d been looking through and shut it.

With both boxes carefully piled into your arms, you look up at the doorway to the home. Your home…Mrs. Meyerson watches you through a split in the blinds of the front window and when she sees you spot her; she shuts them and ignores you.

“Y/N?” His voice is like the hymn of angels.

It’s hot. It burns like your whiskey and tastes just as rich.

“Tony.” You whisper, a sad whimper.

You don’t lift your head because you’re crying. You don’t want him to see.

“Hey.” His voice is so soft. So gentle. F.R.I.D.A.Y. must have told him something was wrong.

He moves around you and comes into view, leaning forward a bit so that he can be more on your level as he looks at your face, still pressed against the cool counter.

“Hi.” You cry.

“Busted out the big guns, huh?” He reaches out and takes your drink from you.

You don’t fight him. The only one who you wouldn’t.

“They didn’t want me.” You sigh, sniffling as you struggle to keep from sobbing. That hole, the one that never fills right at the center of your chest aches. “None of them wanted me. They…they were afraid of me.”

Tony puts the whiskey aside and leans his elbows against the counter, getting close so that he can speak quietly. Just to you.

“Having a little pity party?” He asks, a small smile offered. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” You agree, reaching up to wipe at your dripping nose.

“That’s sexy.” He rattles, moving closer to stand beside you.

He’s close. You can feel the heat from his body. Dark gray t-shirt. Black sleep pants. He smells so good. Like aftershave and coconut shampoo. Despite his close proximity, he folds his arms onto the counter, shoving his hands underneath his arms as if he’s determined to keep his hands to himself.

You lean towards him but don’t touch him. He doesn’t want your touch. You know that. It makes you sob once.

“Tony?” You sigh, staring down at your hands in your lap, lower lip quivering helplessly as you’re that little girl again. Wrapped in her daddy’s safe arms. Loved by her mom. Peacefully sleeping when that nightmare awakens something within you and then the car is sent flying.

“Yeah?” He knows what he’s doing. He’s being so careful with you.

His tone is softer than it’s been in a long time. You know that it’s your fault. You’re always so forward. Throwing yourself at him. Making suggestive comments and just being a downright dumbass. You should stop it.

You look at him, blubbering still and the way that his soft brown hair sticks up at odd angles because he’s just freshly showered and was actually probably still bathing when F.R.I.D.A.Y. told him you were having a fit.

You want him. Damn it all.

With a lick to your lips, you shake your head. “I killed them, Tony.”

You sob, hating yourself. Hating your gifts. Hating your life.

“I killed them. I did. I did that. I killed them.” You repeat, as if saying it any other way will possibly make it stick any harder than it’s already sticking.

It startles you into silence when Tony pulls his left arm out and then slides his hand back behind your neck, up into your hair to hold the back of your head. He caresses you, comforting you. Loving you?

That isn’t platonic in his eyes. There’s that fire from the day on the paintball field in his eyes again. When you told him you’d go find someone else to fill your needs. When you kissed Steve.

It’s there. You can see it. Up close. He wants you. Like you want him. Why won’t he—oh, right, Pepper.

With his hand on you though, you can’t focus on her enough to care.

You lean in more towards him, burrowing into the crook of his arm. For one whole second he holds you tight. He wraps you up and pulls your head against his chest and you’re right where you want to be.

Then there’s the sound of feet from the hallway and he’s leaning against the far counter while you catch yourself on the edge of the island.

You stare up at him, still crying and now confused.

“Tony?” You ask, searching his face but he’s got his back to you now as he dumps out your whiskey.

“No more alcohol. We don’t need you lifting cars onto the roof again.” He throws at you, back tense through his t-shirt.

“Tony?” You check again, wanting to see his eyes, to have him look at you with that fire again.

Had you imagined it? Is it all in your head?

“Look, kid, just take a shower and get to bed, alright? Stop thinking about this stuff.” He orders.

Does he think you started to think about your parents on a whim? You’d dreamt about them! Bastard.

“Tony?” Another voice, deep, smooth, almost monotone in its calm nature.

You can hear the inflection of emotion because you’re so used to his voice. Steve.

“What’s going on?” He asks, looking from Tony to you.

“I…I had-” You begin but Tony cuts you off.

“A few too many. I was just sending her to bed before she puts my cars on the roof again.” He finally turns around and his face is back in its detached control.

When he looks at you, there is no fire anymore. Just stern disapproval.

Jerk.

Your shoulders slump and you make a point of sitting quiet as Steve continues to stare at you.

Clearly, you’re still upset about something. You’re still crying. Your cheeks are stained in tear tracks. You worry your lip as you wait for Tony to leave. You don’t want to be around him when he’s like this with you.

Not right now. Not when you already have all of those other people in your memory pushing you away.

“What’s the matter with Y/N? Why is she crying?” Steve wonders, genuine concern in his voice.

Tony’s had been just as worried if not more so a second ago.

“I don’t know.” Tony lies. “I’m going to bed. Pepper’s waiting.”

He says this for you, and you know that he’s drawing that line again. The line that he crossed. Continues to cross. You hate him.

You look at him.

You love him.

“Night.” Steve tells him but when Tony speaks, it’s for you.

“Go to bed. Stop drinking.” He says but you don’t respond.

He leaves and Steve settles into the seat beside you.

“You smell like the bottom of a bottle.” He observes. “How much did you have?”

You shrug.

“Not talking to me now?”

You shrug again.

“Y/N?” It’s his tone that pulls your gaze up to meet his own storm blue eyes.

His blonde hair looks soft and brushed out. His beard is full but neatly trimmed. He looks good for Steve.

Okay…he looks good for anyone. He’s a hunk. But he’s not your hunk.

“What’s going on?” He asks, reaching out to place his hand on the back of your shoulder.

“I had a nightmare.” You admit, licking your lips once more. “About my parents.”

Steve already knows what happened with your parents. He doesn’t need an explanation.

Tony had consulted him before you were allowed on the team after all.

He nods, understanding you in an instant. For a long moment he thinks.

You can see the idea forming in his head and only after you’re stuck staring at him with unbridled curiosity does he turn to sit facing you. One hand on the back of your chair, the other placed on the counter in front of you.

“I like you.” He says, just like that.

You’re drunk. Hearing him say that, throws you.

“What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him confused. You must be hearing things.

“You heard me.” He says, stern, hard. No games.

“Steve…” You start, blinking hard to clear the buzz from your head.

“I know…” He sighs, scooting in closer as he grabs hold of your seat and turns you to face him. “I know where your head is. And your heart.”

Your cheeks flare. They flame and burn, and your neck burns too. You haven’t exactly tried to hide how you feel about Tony but to be called out on it?

“I can’t speak as to where his head is at, but I know that he’s not going to look your way with Pepper there.”

You hate Steve too. You look down at his chest, hating the knowing glint in his eyes.

His thumb and forefinger close around the tip of your chin and tilt your head back until you can look into his eyes again.

“What I can tell you is that I’m interested. I wasn’t playing when I said and did all those things. I don’t know if maybe you thought I was just flirting, but I wasn’t. I like you.” He confesses.

You’re so startled that your heart pounds. You shake your head, but he doesn’t release you. If anything, he leans in closer.

“I can’t give you what you want.” You tell him, knowing that all deep affection is diverted to the jerk that just left the room.

“I know.” He acknowledges. “What can you give me?”

Is he seriously asking?

“I-”

“It doesn’t have to be detailed, Y/N. I just…I’m not exactly in a place to make commitments either. This job we have, it’s tough. I’ve left love behind for it before and odds are, I’ll have to do it again. I’m not going into this with any illusions. I just want to pass the time with you.

“You’re funny and you never do what I expect you to do. You’re easy to talk to and you’re sexy as hell.” He smiles and you’re suddenly very aware of your stupid blubbering face and how much of a mess it actually is.

“Yeah, right.” You gasp, yanking your chin out of his grip.

“You are.” He insists. “You’re not like other people and I like that. So, what can you give me?”

You think. You think hard and as fast as you can.

He’s right. Tony is never going to give in. He’s never going to look at you the way you see him. You’re tired of feeling alone and unwanted. Steve is offering you a little bit of companionship. It’s not love but it’s not being alone.

Maybe you should know better but it’s too tempting. And it’s been a while. Your libido is going to go dormant if you don’t get under someone soon.

That’s what you decide you can give him.

“I can’t love you.” You tell him.

“That’s…that’s okay.” He says.

“I think I can like you.” You sigh. “Kissing you wasn’t bad.”

“Oh,” He chuckles. “That’s good to know. Thanks.”

You smile, eased by his amusement. He’s right. He’s easy to talk to as well.

With trembling hands, you reach up to trace the outline of his chest through his t-shirt. He’s so hard. Super Soldier perfection. It doesn’t mean as much like Tony’s physique does because Steve gets this on default, but you’d be lying if you said it isn’t nice.

He puts his hand over yours and holds it against his chest.

“Is this a yes? You’ll be with me?” He asks, hopeful.

After a second, you nod. He leans in towards you, excitement in his eyes.

“We’re not a couple.” Your clarification stops him in his tracks. “But we’re also not, not a couple. I want you. I do. It’s been such a long time and I…are you a virgin?”

You suddenly ask him this, wondering because of his past with Peggy. You’re not sure he would have had the time to be with her back then.

Steve laughs genuinely amused by your question before he hops off of his stool. He grabs you, one arm underneath your legs, the other your back as he lifts you up into his arms and begins to walk with you towards his bedroom.

“Guess that rumor’s still floating around. Nat?” He asks.

You nod, reaching up to hold him around his neck.

“Don’t worry, doll-face. We’ll get that rumor cleared up.”

“Right now?” You ask, slightly startled at the prospect of sleeping with Steve so quickly.

“Unless you wanna wait?” He asks, stopping just outside your doorway.

You bite your lips, considering for a moment the prospect of sleeping in that bed again, your dreams fresh and vivid.

“No.” You protest. “Kiss me, Steve.”

He dips his head and continues on, kissing the whiskey away.

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[kristallioness]

Feast your eyes

Summary: Katara gets a bit carried away while checking Aang's eye.

Word count: 2,657

Author's note: I've been rewatching "Call the midwife" because they started showing it from the beginning and I'm waiting for it to catch up to the season where it ended in 2017 (when I wrote my longest, now 2nd longest fanfic with the same name, inspired by the series), so I could hopefully see the new episodes. I already watched the 1st part of the season 7 Christmas special this Friday, it was pretty funny! There was this precious scene with two characters (who also happened to be my favourite couple), Doctor Patrick Turner and his wife Shelagh (who was previously a midwife). She got some pieces of hot coal stuck in her eye after an accident with a patient, so her husband checked her eye. During the examination he asked her to blink a few more times. She felt sure that it must've come out by then, and then he just said something along the lines that: "I know, I just like looking at your beautiful eyes and I thought I'd use the chance." Now I'm using the chance and writing Aang and Katara do the same, with her being the doctor (cause she IS a healer) who's checking (out) his eyes. Their dialogue is the same (word to word) as Patrick and Shelagh's (I rewatched that part of the episode and wrote it down). It's too sweet, I didn't wanna change it. The story takes place in the same room of Hakoda's office, where he rested after Gilak's attack in "North and South: Part Three". Also, here's an illustration of the scene that inspired the entire fic.

----------x----------

"..Now that the council has been formed, the members elected and each nation is represented, I hope that people's voices will be heard a lot better. Or at least they'll have someone to turn to with their problems."

Katara sipped her tea, lowering the cup back on the table to have a look out the window. She wiped away the fog that blocked her view onto the streets of her home tribe.

Another hand landed on the one she'd rested on the table, still having a firm hold on the ear of her cup.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that things have calmed down."

Her diamond blue eyes remained fixed on her 3-year-old son, who was having a snowball fight outside together with his daddy, uncle and aunt. Their screeches emanated through the frosty glass that separated his mother from the freezing surroundings, keeping her warm inside the chief's office.

Katara released a worried sigh.

"I hope so.. for Bumi's sake."

A mother's heart ached not only for the well-being of her own family, but for the prosperity of the community around them. All she and Aang had ever wanted was for their baby to live in a time of peace.

The turmoil that'd plagued Cranefish Town had finally seemed to start settling down. The remnants of the town that'd nearly been destroyed by the Great Fire were barely visible in the capital's largely growing silhouette. The newly-founded capital they'd decided to call Republic City was rebuilding terrifyingly fast.

Hakoda gave his daughter's hand a squeeze to get her attention.

"I'm proud of you, sweetie. And your brother, too. You've done well."

A warm smile formed on her lips, erasing the frown she'd worn while observing them having fun in the snow. She didn't yearn to join them just yet. She had everything she needed right in front of her.

"Thanks, dad!"

Katara reached for another slice of blueberry fruit pie, offering some more to her dad as well. She and Aang had baked and packed along two fruit pies, a blueberry-flavoured one and the other with cranberry filling. Her dad liked the bland taste of the first one more, whereas Malina had really indulged herself in the sweet red jam on top of the second one.

"How's Aang holding up? With Bumi and everything else happening in the capital?"

Katara swallowed the spongy piece of pie in her mouth and licked her lips clean of the blue jam before answering.

"We manage. With the council taking on a bigger responsibility of governing the city and Toph's police force helping maintain order, we're hoping that he'll have more spare time so he could be at home with Bumi while I work at the hospital."

Hakoda had noticed the bags under his daughter's eyes the day they'd arrived, when his son-in-law had landed their pet sky bison in front of his office and she'd hopped off the animal to tackle him with a big hug.

Caring for her baby boy, being married to the Avatar, with whom she shared her worries and in turn listened to his own, keeping the temple clean, rising in the ranks among her colleagues at the hospital - Katara had been overworking for far too long. She hadn't slept so heavily in months as she did that night in her old home, together with her husband and son.

"I've tried to reduce my workload in the meantime, so I'm away from home only until the late afternoons. I don't wanna miss out too much on seeing Bumi grow up."

"That's a very good idea, Katara. If Aang ever needs help, in any political matters or anything, I'm right there for him. The entire Southern Water Tribe supports you two. We've got your backs."

The two of them had a pleasant morning catching up on everything important going on in their lives. Katara missed spending time together with her dad, which is why she'd planned on sending everybody out of the way that morning so she could have breakfast with him.

"He knows, dad. We'll call you if we need help."

Three knocks on the door interrupted their father-daughter bonding time. A snow-covered Aang walked in, one hand covering half of his face.

"Katara, I might need some medical assistance."

"Oh, sweetie! What happened?" she asked in a worried tone, rising from the couch to go have a closer look at what she figured might be wrong with his eye. She stepped in front of her husband and, lacing her fingers with his, gently coaxed him to lower his hand from his face.

"Bumi threw a snowball right into my eye."

She giggled for a mere second before shushing up when Aang shot her an irritated glare. She proceeded to brush the remnants of the snow off his eyebrow and temple.

"Aww! My poor airbender.."

The blush on his already rosy cheeks grew a little bit when she used baby talk on him like that, in front of his father-in-law, no less. Hakoda pretended to drink his tea as if he paid no attention to the way Katara cooed to him in a motherly manner, but he certainly felt amused by the sight.

"Dad, why don't you go outside and play with Bumi while I tend to this.. injury?"

The chief grabbed one last bite of the blueberry fruit pie before he got up, pulling on his gloves and parka to leave. He stopped next to his daughter and snaked an arm around her shoulders to give her a crumby kiss on the cheek, which made her giggle in delight.

"I'll see you later, sweetie. And you'll be just fine, son. You're in good hands," Hakoda assured the airbender, giving him a few pats on the shoulder.

"I know, dad.. I know."

That was all Aang could say as he smiled at Katara, staring at her as best as he could with one eye half-lidded. Hakoda shut the door behind him to give the young couple some privacy.

"Come here, sweetie. Take a seat so I can have a look."

Their hands remained entwined as Katara guided Aang to the couch and beckoned him to sit down so she could examine him. She dusted off the last of the snowflakes on his maroon winter cloak. Next, she leaned forward and cupped his chin to hold his head steady, palpating tenderly around his eye with her index finger.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not really."

"Good. I'm gonna heal it with some water, just in case. Close your eyes."

Aang did as she instructed, sensing her finger run over his lashes to get rid of the icy glaze first. After that, he heard the sound of water swooshing near him. He peeked at what was happening with his good eye.

Katara summoned the liquid around her hands, waterbending the clean water over his right eye to heal it for a minute. Aang had to resist the urge to laugh at the way her tongue was sticking out of her mouth. She was that focused.

"There.. now open your eyes."

When he did, he gazed into her own diamond blue eyes with all the love and admiration he had for her. She was too busy checking her work to notice the dreamy look on his face. Katara gently pulled his lower eyelid down a bit to see whether she got all the snow out.

"Blink."

He blinked, but otherwise never broke eye contact with her, following her every move just as intently as she was staring at him. She tilted her head to have a closer look.

"And again.."

"Surely it's all out now," Aang said, blinking again like she'd asked. Her fingers caressed his cheek and scratched his beard, slightly pulling him closer to her. She gave him a sly smile.

"Probably, I just don't get to look into your eyes very often these days. Thought I'd better make the most of it."

Aang started laughing together with her, receiving a kiss on the cheek for being such an obedient patient. He wrapped his arms around Katara's waist, pulling her down into his lap so she'd be straddling him. Her hands landed on his shoulders to steady herself and she felt how his own came together on the small of her back. The smooth move made her blush as well.

"Thank you, doctor Katara!"

"You do know my title is 'healer' since I have healing abilities too, right?" she reminded him, booping his nose with her finger.

"I know. I just like calling you with that one, too. It sounds more.. medical."

"Mmm.. fair point."

Katara motioned her hand over his eyes so he'd close them again.

"Did you forget something?"

When he couldn't see anymore, she slowly moved closer and nuzzled her nose against his own.

"Something like that," she murmured. Aang didn't expect her to give him a soft peck on his eye, the one that got hit with the snowball.

"Was that a healing kiss?" he wondered out loud, sensing her lips leave a trail down his cheek until they met his own. A hand came up to the nape of his neck to pull him in deeper. Katara paused for a second to catch her breath, chuckling at his idea.

"It might've been."

Aang took the initiative and started pecking at her neck in return, making her laugh. She half wanted to break herself free from his embrace so his smooching wouldn't tickle her so much. The other half of her wanted him to go on, since the sensation was sending shivers down her spine.

Ultimately Katara surrendered to the pleasure, allowing her husband to pepper the navy tunic covering her chest with tiny kisses. The white fur running along her collar rubbed against his nose the lower he moved.

"Ah.. aahh-"

She got the impression like he was enjoying this even more than she thought. Until he stopped and turned his head away for a moment.

"Achoo!"

She nudged herself closer while he was busy scratching his nose, the sudden interruption making her laugh. The not-so enthusiastic moans were just him trying to hold back a sneeze.

"Bless you, sweetie! You're not coming down with a cold, are you?" she cooed, checking his forehead for a fever, after which she planted another kiss on his light blue arrow.

"I'm not sure, but I wouldn't say 'no' to hearing a doctor's opinion."

She giggled, lifting her legs up on the couch and locking them around him to continue the make out session. His strong arms wouldn't let her fall off his lap while she worked on checking every inch of his face for signs of sickness by planting a dozen 'healing kisses' everywhere.

"You're a lucky man, Avatar Aang. There just so happens to be a doctor right in this office. And she's considered to be the best doctor in the entire world."

"Oh? And what would she recommend for preventing a cold?"

Katara slid her hands back down on his shoulders, her fingertips grabbing the edges of his cloak and fiddling with the hood on the back.

"Oh.. just this!"

With a flick of her wrists, she pulled the hood over his face and, while he was distracted by the blindness, she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull his head against her chest.

Aang merely laughed the entire time. He held her tight with one hand and used the other to lift the hood off his eyes, leaving it to cover the top of his bald head.

She wouldn't let him budge too much as she gently stroked his temple, her other hand pressing the side of his face into the fuzzy fabric of her short-sleeved coat. He looked up at her and gave her that signature goofy grin, which made her chuckle when she tilted her head to gaze back at him.

"Do you feel warmed up now?"

"Yes, sweetie. Thanks! If you don't mind, I'd like to stay this way for just a few more minutes. You really are warm.. And squishy," he remarked, nuzzling the side of his face against her bosom. The sound of her giggling rumbled through his left ear, her happiness bringing joy into his world, too.

"Grandad said he left them in here-"

Katara brought one hand up under Aang's chin and began tickling him. The married couple were so busy laughing to themselves that they didn't hear someone approach the office nor the door being opened.

"-let's see whether mommy helped your daddy feel bett-errr.. KATARA!?"

"Oof!" she exclaimed when she slipped through Aang's legs and fell on the floor in an instant.

"Mommy!"

Toddler Bumi let go of uncle Sokka's hand and ran to his mother, who began rubbing her bottom after his father had accidentally dropped her.

"Oh my gosh, don't tell me you did it in dad's office!"

Aang remained sitting on the couch in utter silence, his face more flushed than hers, embarrassment slightly hidden under the shade provided by the hood.

"Are you okay, mommy?" Bumi asked while his daddy snapped out of it, grabbing his mommy's hands to help her stand up. She grunted and supported her weight on him, still massaging near the spot where her tailbone was located.

"Ow.. Yes, baby, don't worry! Mommy's okay. Uncle Sokka just startled me and daddy a little," she claimed while she composed herself.

"I'm so sorry, Katara! I didn't mean to-" Aang barely uttered before she stopped him by laying a finger on his lips.

"It's okay, sweetie. I forgive you. Muah!"

She rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek instead, then turned around to face her annoying brother, her brows furrowed.

"First off, haven't you ever heard of knocking, Sokka!? And second, for your information, I did not. We were just.. cuddling."

"Canoodling's more like it. Oh, great! Now that image is forever burned into my brain. Thanks a lot, sis!"

Katara merely rolled her eyes, her attention turning back to her baby boy when he tugged at her navy tunic.

"Can I cuddle, too, mommy?" he asked, reaching his hands up.

"Aww, of course you can, baby! Come here!"

She picked Bumi up into her arms and gave him a big platypus bear hug, beckoning Aang to join in as well.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long, buddy. Mommy took her time healing my eye. She wanted to be extra careful that everything's okay," he said, ruffling his son's short, frizzy hair with one hand.

"Yeah, she took her time for a lot of other things, too.." Sokka muttered, turning towards the open door when he heard someone else running in the hallway. Suki appeared and entered the chief's office, a worried look on her face.

"Is everything okay? We heard screaming."

"Yes, Suki, we're fine. It was Sokka who did all of the screaming," Katara said with a smirk, to which the Kyoshi warrior quirked an eyebrow.

"Really? What happened?"

Her husband held a hand up to her face.

"Trust me, you don't wanna know. One word: oogies!"

Suki remained completely confused while she waited for Katara to grab her parka from the coat rack so the entire family could go back outside, where Hakoda awaited their return to play some more with his first grandson.

She also had to cut a slice of blueberry fruit pie for Bumi so he wouldn't throw a tantrum first, since she and Aang had already eaten some dessert that morning. Plus, it'd give him the energy to continue running around in the heavy snow.

With their son content and all five of them heading out of the office, Katara used the opportunity to tell Suki how she and Aang were caught by her brother when he wandered in without knocking. Sokka walked in front of them, side by side with Aang, who attempted to console him while the girls snickered and teased him together.

[overwatchworks]

When Jade Turns to Scarlet

Chapter 3

He just wanted to see his master's smile again, wanted Genji to assure him it would be okay, that he was fine, that they could still be there for each other, together. 

But his master remained still.

Egg blinked once, twice, trying to clear his vision of all the red, but it still didn't go away, no matter where he looked. He couldn’t remember what happened after the massive red dragon that had engulfed him, smothering and growling and controlling. He was small again, and he swiveled his head around to look for the evil man who had harmed his master, seeing that they were alone. He hissed, puffing up his mane but feeling it stick to his scales rather than do what he wanted. 

He chirped in confusion, looking down at his paws as they splashed in more red, his nose assaulted with the stench of copper and gore. Egg squeaked in alarm, hopping out of the puddle of blood to search for his master, making distressed little noises as he hopped around the balcony, paws leaving red prints in his wake. He searched frantically, recognizing the scent of his master, but it was everywhere, confusing him because he wasn't here. 

Egg looked back to the blood soaked form of what must have been a body, noticing the tiniest bit of green standing out from the rest of it, and he squealed, hopping back over as quick as he could.

"Master! Master, Master!" He squeaked, nudging fingers, fingers that would wriggle and boop his snout of they would move. He bumped his head against his master's leg, hoping he would sit up and offer his lap to curl up in like usual.

"Master...?" Egg squeaked again, moving up instead to sniff his master's cheek, pressing his snout to it and expecting a smile in response. His master always smiled when he did that. 

But Egg's master was still, the only sound being blood dripping from the walls. He patted his paw to his master's face in confusion, nudging Genji's chin, squeaking softly because he didn't understand. Why wasn't his master waking up? 

Egg looked into Genji's face, seeing that his eyes were open, but they weren't looking at anything, unseeing of Egg desperately trying to get his attention. He squeaked again, hopping in place, because Egg didn't like this game his master was playing, didn't like how it wasn't ending.

"M-master...? Egg wants you to wake up now...! Egg wants it to be back to normal..." He whimpered quietly, nudging Genji's head again, pressing his own against it and staying close for a moment.

"Please, master...?"

Egg looked back down at himself, blood tacky against his scales and sticking to him, covering him just like it covered his master. Did he do this...? He squealed suddenly in realization, darting back from Genji's unmoving form and curling up slightly, afraid of what he might do again. Egg looked around frantically, hopping into the main room and squeaking as loud as he could.

"Help! Help my master! Someone! Please help him! Help!"

He darted into the center of the room, looking around in a panic.

"Hanzo! Master Hanzo! Please help me! Master Hanzo!" He called, head whipping around and ears swiveling to catch any noise he could. 

Egg huffed in frustration when he heard nothing, running to the bridge and heading for the exit to find master Hanzo when he spotted someone.

"Help my master! Please!" He yelped, recognizing the form of the person crouched in the shadows.

"Egg? What the hell are you doin' here?" Jesse hissed, peeking out from where he was hidden.

"Please! Please, Jesse! Egg has done something to master! He needs help, please!" He squeaked, hopping in place urgently. 

Jesse frowned, obviously not able to understand him, so Egg scrambled back the way he had come from, chirping frantically and hearing Jesse follow after him.

"Hey! Wait up lil' guy! Where're you goin'?!"

"Master! Master, Egg has brought help! Please wake up!" He cried. 

He stayed back, not daring to get closer, afraid if he did he would only make things worse. Egg looked back down at his paws as Jesse ran up to him. Upon seeing Genji's body, he stopped dead in his tracks. His tail swished in a panic, and he curled up into himself.

"Please help him, Jesse!" He whimpered, backing into a corner and tucking himself to the wall there.

"My god...Gen..? Genji?!" 

Jesse collapsed next to Egg's master, knees splashing in the blood and splintered bone littering the floor around him, eyes wide and horrified. He leaned down, checking Genji for something Egg couldn't quite see from here, Jesse's head hovering over his master's bloody lips.

"God, he's still breathin'..." Jesse whispered, eyes roaming over Genji's broken form, the claw marks, the gaping holes in his sides and chest. He turned to Egg slowly, disbelief in his tear-filled eyes.

"You...? You did this to him...?" He breathed, and Egg shrank back, pressed as far back as he could get, hating the way Jesse was staring at him.

"S-save my master, please!" Egg wailed, curling his tail tighter around him. He looked away, unable to take the blank way Jesse was gazing at him, and he squeaked in alarm when he saw one of his paws was faded.

"Master! No! Master! Please, Jesse! Master is dying! Please help him!" Egg screeched, and Jesse blinked, looking back at Genji's body in comprehension.

"Shit, no no no, hang on, Gen! I've gotcha!"

Egg whimpered and watched from afar, channeling all his strength to what was left of his master, hoping he could perhaps give his life to save his master's. It was the least he could do for committing such an atrocious act. He just wanted to see his master's smile again, wanted Genji to assure him it would be okay, that he was fine, that they could still be there for each other, together. 

But his master remained still.

~*~*~*~

Jesse had his suspicions about Genji and his family. He had been sent to Hanamura by Blackwatch to monitor the activities of the Shimada clan, after all. They had been causing trouble around Asia, and even beginning to interfere with previous Blackwatch and Overwatch operations. 

What he didn't expect was Genji Shimada. He didn’t expect to fall in love with the youngest heir to the clan, sneaking out with him and shirking his duties for just a night, laughing and enjoying his time with Genji like he never had before. He could be himself with the young Shimada, he could be free with him, just the two of them understanding one another without even having to say a word. Genji would stay with him, and Jesse loved being with him, all the time. He never got tired of him.

Eventually, he just wanted to take care of him, knowing that the man he had fallen for couldn't have done the things he had heard about in the reports he had read before the mission. He was too kind, just a kid wanting to have a normal life, forced into a situation he never asked for. 

Jesse had been worried about him since he had left that morning, Genji saying some things the other night that had put him ill at ease. Then, he had gotten the report from Commander Reyes.

"Shimada castle has been attacked by a rival clan. This is the perfect time for you to sneak in there and get the information we need. Get in and get out Jesse, and stay safe."

It shouldn't have made his stomach drop the way it did. But Genji was in there, probably battling for his life. Jesse had immediately suited up, grabbing extra ammo and his spare revolver, one on each thigh. He kept to the shadows, stealing through the back streets of Hanamura until he got to the massive wooden gates that protected the Shimada clan estate. 

They were pushed open a crack already, and Jesse glanced around before darting inside, gun at the ready, but he met no one. The grounds were empty, though far from unoccupied. He could hear shouts and the sounds of swords clashing further in. He followed them, staying hidden in the shadows, gun held at the ready. 

Jesse passed bodies strewn about the ground, blood splashing the walkways and walls around him. It looked as though he came towards the end of the battle, and he silently thanked his shred of luck. He slipped into the main building, finding it empty except for the corpses littering the floor, nose wrinkling at the sight and smell of blood and gore. 

He was used to it though, moving on without a second glance. He went running down a hall and slowed when he heard screaming. Loud, agonized, and torn from the throat of whatever poor soul was being tortured. Jesse grimaced and continued with caution, gun held in a two handed grip in front of him. 

He stopped and shrunk back into the shadows as he heard multiple footsteps approaching. It sounded like someone was being dragged. They passed above him, and Jesse heard whoever was being taken away shouting in Japanese, pleading. Then, he heard Genji’s name called out desperately, freezing him on the spot.

"Genji! Yameru! Genji!" 

Jesse frowned and stayed where he was until the sounds had passed, then bolted through a courtyard and into a large room, dark and massive. He leaped down from the bridge he was just on, scrambling behind a wall and hearing the tail end of those tortured screams again, before they stopped with a wet sound, a snap, and a growl. 

Jesse's breath came out in quick, quiet huffs, and he pulled both revolvers out, raising them up a bit and waiting to hear anything else. Finally, the click of leather-soled shoes on wood echoed through the otherwise silent building, and Jesse held his breath as they passed the bridge over his head. 

When he had waited a suitable amount of time to make sure he wasn't going to be ambushed, Jesse started for the stairs and headed back up, going to investigate the shrieking he had heard. He ducked back when there was a squeal of anguish coming from the balcony, plastering himself to the wall and waiting again. 

There was scampering and squeaking, loud and frantic as it got closer to him, and Jesse could have sworn he heard a wail before a flash of red darted past him. It stopped, turning and locking eyes with him before squealing and hopping up and down. Jesse frowned at the off colour, but he recognized the mannerisms of the small dragon in front of him.

"Egg? What the hell are you doin' here?" He hissed. Egg continued to chitter and hop before bolting back into the center of the room, Jesse's eyes widened fractionally and he scrambled up, following after the dragon.

"Hey! Wait up lil' guy! Where're you goin'?!" He called.

Egg darted out to the balcony, Jesse right behind him and stumbling a bit when he saw the gore. Blood was splashed over the walls and floor, even the ceiling had some dripping from it, and there was a body laying in the center of it all, hardly recognizable as human from the way it had been torn to shreds. Jesse had never seen anything like it before, even in Deadlock.

"My god..." He breathed, the stench of death heavy in the air. Upon seeing a bit of green among all the scarlet, his eyes widened, a startled noise choked in his throat.

"Gen..? Genji?!"

Jesse ran over and collapsed into the puddle of blood and bits of bone, not even feeling it soak onto his knees. He leaned down and immediately checked to see if he was still alive, ear hovering over his bloody and torn lips. A sliver of air ghosted past his cheek, then once more.

"God, he's still breathin'..." Jesse whispered, absolutely mortified. 

His head spun as he looked over Genji's mutilated body; gaping holes in his chest, deep gashes clawed into the skin, arm almost pulled off of his torso, legs twisted and splintered, face opened with three giant claw marks. 

Jesse's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, and he slowly looked at the shivering dragon in the corner, soaked in his own master's blood.

"You...? You did this to him...?" He breathed, seeing Egg shrink back and whimper a cry. 

He squeaked something again, wailed, screeched, and Jesse blinked, holding back the bile that had risen in his throat and swallowing thickly before staring back at the broken form of Genji, realizing he only had minutes left.

"Shit, no no no, hang on Gen, I've gotcha!" Jesse gritted out, pressing his comm and tearing off his jacket before placing it over the hole in Genji's side, applying pressure.

"Commander! Commander Reyes! I need emergency evac at my location, now! I got someone dyin', please, I need help now!" He shouted, looking over at Genji, his eyes open and staring at nothing. They were hazy, one of them red and bleeding.

"Where are you, kid? You hurt?" Reyes responded immediately, smooth voice betraying a hint of worry.

"No, no I need emergency medical evac, now! I got one of the Shimada's here, he's bleeding to death, Commander! Please!" Jesse yelled, voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks. His hands were shaking.

"Right, I'm sending in a team to your location now, they'll be there in ten minutes."

"Boss, we don't have ten minutes..." Jesse whispered, pressing down on Genji's wounds but he couldn't staunch the blood flow, there was just too much. 

He switched the comm to mute and pulled Genji into his lap, cradling his body gently and pressing his forehead to his boyfriend's, rocking slightly.

"Just ten more minutes, sweetheart, stay with me ten more minutes an' we'll get you all fixed up. Promise." He murmured, taking Genji's hand and squeezing it lightly. 

There was a weak cough by his ear, Genji's shallow breath picking up a bit. His eyes flickered to Jesse's face, and he smiled just slightly enough for Jesse to notice.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm here for you, hon. You’re going to be okay."

Jesse tried for his own lopsided grin, and Genji coughed again, hand twitching in his.

"I--Meant w...What I told you last night...Remember...?" He whispered brokenly, and Jesse shook his head, grip tightening on Genji's body.

"No, no don't do this to me, Gen... Don't--"

Genji smiled again, just a twitch of his lips.

"You mean so much to me, J-Jess...Sorry I didn't t...tell you this morning like you...Asked..." He choked out, a streak of blood running down the side of his mouth. A sob wracked through Jesse's chest and he pressed a kiss to Genji's forehead, running a hand through his hair soothingly.

"Shh, no, it's fine, it's fine, darlin'. You’re gonna be okay, just stay with me, please, sugar..." Jesse begged, hearing Genji's ragged huffs of breath slowing.

"Are you...Going to take me away now...? I'd be okay with leaving now...After seeing you one more time. Even if it’s--Just a dream." He breathed, pained gasps shuddering his body.

"No--No no, just stay with me, Gen...I’m really here, okay? You...You still gotta run away with me, we made a promise..." Jesse heaved, tears falling onto Genji's face and mixing with the blood covering it. Genji huffed a laugh, and it turned into a haggard cough, head lolling in Jesse's arms.

"I...I might be on my--my own this time Jess..." His voice was just barely above a whisper, and Jesse grit his teeth.

"No, no don't you dare say that! You promised me, Genji Shimada, and I'm gonna hold you to it! Please...Please don't make me leave here without you..." Jesse whimpered, holding just a bit tighter.

Genji's fingers slid against Jesse's as they left his grip, going up to brush Jesse's cheek weakly, eyes closing and a little smile still playing on his blood spattered lips.

"You know...I did end up falling in...In love with you, Jess--I love you."

Jesse fought back a scream and shook his head, empty hand now fisting as tears came spilling down faster.

"Dammit, stop this! Stop makin' it sound like you’re sayin' goodbye...! Y-you have a promise to keep, an' I do too! I wanna be able to hear you say that to me every day after this, I wanna say it back to you without it bein' the--God I love you, Gen, don't leave me right when we finally said it, please! Please, just hang on a little longer!" Jesse wailed, even as Genji's weight fell heavier into his arms, breath fading against his cheek.

"Don't--No, please...I love you, Genji...I love you--God--No..." He whispered, pressing feather light kisses to Genji's brow. Jesse looked up through the blur of tears when he felt a gentle nudge against his arm, Egg a fading mist next to him.

He loves you.

Jesse grit his teeth and cried out, gasping for air that wouldn't come to him.

"No, no no no...God no..."

You made him happy, so happy. Even now.

"God, no no, please...! Please!"

Egg poofed beside him, the jade mist flowing back into Genji's still form as Jesse hovered over him, clutching desperately as broken sobs tore from his throat.

"You'll be okay, darlin'. You’re gonna be okay..." He whispered. 

He stayed like that, rocking back and forth, pressing kisses to Genji's lids and brow until the transport came, hovering right by the balcony. A team of medical personnel immediately exited the aircraft, running over and dropping down next to Jesse, pulling him away from Genji, uttering words to him he couldn't hear. 

He watched in a daze as they put down biotic fields around Genji’s limp form. The team lifted him carefully onto a stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over the bottom half of his face and examining him even as he was lifted onto the ship. 

Jesse didn't realize he was moving until he was suddenly being seated aboard the aircraft as well, and he turned his head slightly to the woman who was holding on to his arm, asking him a question. He didn't hear it, so he just shook his head and pulled his arm away from her. Jesse went to a corner and slid down the wall, closed his eyes and rested his head on his blood soaked knees. 

Genji was smiling at him behind his eyelids, grinning like he was the sun and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, that beautiful laughter ringing in his ears. Genji was there with him when he closed his eyes, whispering their promise to him, pressing reassuring kisses to his temple and making him feel safe once more. 

Jesse let himself cry, curling up and wrapping his arms around his middle, sobbing quietly in the corner where no one would see him. Because Genji was on that stretcher, motionless and covered in scarlet, not here next to him where he should have been.

~~

[peaches-of-1]

A/N: This is not yet formatted correctly. I will fix it later! Merry Christmas everyone!

525,600 minutes 525,000 moments so dear 525,600 minutes How do you measure, measure a year?

Some would count in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. Others in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. Let me ask, in 525,600 minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? Hmm? How about love? I ask you. How about love? Would you measure in love? Seasons of love. Just seasons of love.

In her office, Maman scrolled through pictures of her and Hwasa. They were cute together, but the pictures didn’t show everything. Like the cheating. The breakup. The arguments. Just them smiling. Lying…

525,600 minutes. 525,000 journeys to plan. 525,600 minutes. How do you measure the life of a woman or man? Would someone measure their life in truths that she learned, or in times that he cried? In bridges he burned, or the way that she died?

Either way, it's time now to sing out, though the story never ends. Let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends. Looking back it was important to remember the love you’ve gotten before. You got to, you got to remember the love.

You know that love is a gift from up above. Religious or not, it comes from a place of light. Love comes from all that is good and hopeful in the world or out of it. Remember the love. Share love, give love, spread love. Measure in love!

Seasons of love. Just seasons of love. Measure, measure your life in love

______

It had been a few days since Christmas and was now New Year’s Eve. The crew hadn’t returned to their home since they had no idea how to get in and also there were cops patrolling. There weren’t many now that the year was coming to a close, so Hyuna, Hyojong, and Hui stood by the door.

Hui used his skills to slowly pan to the padlock, “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve: The Breaking Back into the Building Party.”

“How long till next year?” Hyuna asked now in magenta purple dress made of crushed velvet and lace around the hem. It was long sleeves which made her even warmer in her jacket and black heels.

Hyojong looked at his watch, “Three and half minutes…”

“I'm giving up my vices.” She said. “I'm going back - back to school. Eviction or not, this week's been so hot that long as I've got you, I know I'll be cool.” She booped his nose. “I couldn't crack the love code, dear 'til you made the lock on my heart explode! It's gonna be a happy new year!”

He lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

“A happy new year.”

Hui came back from making sure the patrols really were gone, “Coast is clear. You're supposed to be working.” He took the cheap alcohol from Hyuna. “That's for midnight. Where are they? There isn't much time.”

“Maybe they're dressing.” The red head teased. “I mean what does one wear that's apropos for a party - that's also a crime?”

“Chips, anyone?” Hwasa said in a bright red leather(?) bathing suit and matching heeled boots.

The film nerd laughed and pointed the older camera at her, “You can take the girl out of Hicksville, but you can't take the Hicksville out of the girl.”

She stuck out her tongue, “My riot got you on TV. I deserve a royalty!”

Hyuna snuck the bottle away from Hui, “Be nice you two or no god awful champagne!”

Hwasa skipped over to the beautiful girl, “Don't mind if I do. No luck?”

Hyojong sighed, “Bolted plywood, padlocked with a chain. A total dead end.”

“Just like my ex-girlfriend.” The short haired woman dialed her just mentioned ex. “Jagiya...? I know you're there...Please pick up the phone. Are you okay?”

Hui chuckled as he filmed his own ex acting not so differently but also slightly different from when they dated. She swatted at him.

“It's not funny! It's not fair!! How can I atone? Are you okay?” She sighed. “I lose control, but I can learn to behave. Give me one more chance. Let me be your slave! I'll kiss your Doc Martens! Let me kiss your Doc Martens! Your every wish I will obey!!!”

Maman spoke from behind the desperate artist, “That might be okay. Down girl.”

Hwasa kneeled.

“Heel...stay.” Then she walked past the leather clad woman to talk to the others. “I did a bit of research with my friends at legal aid. Technically, you're squatters. There's hope, but just in case.” She pulled out a white bundle from her purse.

Rope!

Maman and Hui then began to plot, talking back and forth with him starting out, “We can hoist a line--”

“To the fire escape--”

“And tie off at…”

“That bench!” They said in unison and pointed at the same spot. They high fived each other.

Hwasa pouted, “I can't take them as chums.”

Maman scoffed, “Start hoisting...wench!” She tossed her ex the rope but was then chased by her and ran away with Hui close by.

Even Hyojong was able to crack a smile at their antics, “I think I should be laughing. Yet I forget, forget how to begin. I'm feeling something inside and yet I still can't decide if I should hide or make a wide open grin.” He grabbed his girlfriend around the waist. “Last week I wanted just to disappear. My life was dust, but now it just may be a happy new year. A happy new year!” He lifted the champagne bottle up high.

That’s when Namjoon announced himself dressed in all black, “Bond, James Bond.”

Key posed by his boyfriend, “And Pussy Galore. In person!” She had bolt cutters in hand.

Hyuna was glad to see her friend dressed up so well, “Pussy, you came prepared!”

The two hugged and Key said, “I was a boy scout once, and a brownie...'til some brat got scared.” He pursed his lips.

Namjoon deepened his voice even more to exclaim, “Aha! Moneypenny, my martini!”

“Will bad champagne do?” Hyuna asked, pouring him a cup.

“That's shaken, not stirred.” He took a sip. “Pussy, the bolts.”

Key grabbed both handles of the bolt cutter, “Just say the word!”

“Two minutes left to execute our plan.” the red head chirped.

“Where's everyone else?” Namjoon asked.

Hyojong snarked, “Playing Spiderman.”

____

Once inside, Hui began recording on his older camera. Ironic close up: tight on the phone machine's red light. Once the Boho boys are gone, the power mysteriously comes on. Everyone looked around, confused and suspicious.

Hui kept the camera on the answering machine, “Hui, it's the Wicked Witch of the West: Your mother. Happy New Year from home. We're all impressed that the riot footage made the nightly news. Even your father says congrats, honey...call him. Love Mom!”

The next message played, “Lee Hwitaek, Alexi Darling from Buzzfed.”

“Oh, that show's so sleazy.” He snarked.

“Your footage from the riots: A1. Feature segment, network, deal time. I'm sending you a contract. Ker-ching ker-ching! Marky give us a call 970-4301 or at home try 863-6754 or my cellphone at 919-763-0090 or you can e-mail me at darlingalexinews.com.net or you can page me at--” It cut off.

Hwasa beamed, “I think we need an agent!”

“We?” Hui asked.

Maman shook her head, “That’s selling out.”

“But it's nice to dream!”

“Yeah! It's network TV and it's all thanks to me!” The short haired girl threw her hands in the air.

Hui whispered to Maman, “Somehow i think i smell a whiff of a scheme!”

“Me too.” She responded.

And sure enough, Hwasa said, “We can plan another protest!”

“We?” The lawyer asked.

She nodded, “This time you can shoot from the start, you'll direct, starring me!”

“5, 4, 3, open sesame!” The window unlocked quite easily. “Happy new year!” Everyone cheered. “Happy new year! Happy new…”

The sound of a party horn being blown and the face blowing it ruined the wild mood.

Choongmin smiled, “I see that you've beaten me to the punch.”

“How did you know we'd be here?” The videographer asked.

“I had a hunch.”

“You're not mad?”

The business man shook his head, “I'm here to end this war. It's a shame you went and destroyed the door.”

Hyuna squinted at him, “Why all of a sudden the big about face?”

He smirked, “The credit is yours.You made a good case.”

“What case?” Hyojong looked at her.

“Hyuna came to see me, and she had much to say.”

She folded her arms, “That's not how you put it at all yesterday!”

“I couldn't stop thinking about the whole mess!” The snake looked towards the camera man, “Hui, you'll want to get this on film.”

He shrugged and pressed record on his phone, “I guess.”

Choongmin faced the camera and cleared his throat, “I regret the unlucky circumstances of the last seven days.”

“Circumstance?” Hyojong laughed. “You padlocked our door!”

He continued, “And it's a great pleasure on behalf of Cyber Arts that I hand you this key.”

“Golf claps.” Key said sarcastically, clapping his hands together quietly.

Hui accidentally deleted the footage, “I had no juice in my battery.”

“Reshoot!” Choongmin said trying to keep his cool.

It didn’t get past E’Dawn, “Oh I see, this is a photo opportunity.”

Hwasa skipped in front of the business man and bowed low, “The benevolent god ushers the poor artists back to their flat.” She then flipped him off and went to sit on a table. “Were you planning on taking down the barbed wire from the lot too?”

“Anything but that!” Hyojong scoffed.

Choongie cut in, “Clearing the lot was a safety concern. We break ground this month, but you can return.”

“That's why you're here with people you hate instead of with Muffy at Muffy's estate!” Hwasa stated.

He brushed his finger through his hair, “I honestly rather'd be with you tonight than in West Port.”

Hyojong scoffed, “Spare us old sport, the sound bite!”

That’s when he started to get huffy and pointed at the blonde, “Hyuna, since you were so seductive--”

“You came onto me!” She made it clear.

“Persuade him not to be so counterproductive”

“Liar!” Hyojong yelled.

The yuppie smirked, “Why not tell them what you wore to my place?”

Hyuna set her jaw, “I was on my way to work!”

“In black leather and lace?” He asked. “My desk was a mess. I think I'm still sore!”

She stood and yelled back at him, “Cause I kicked him and told him I wasn't his whore!”

“Does your boyfriend know who your last boyfriend was?”

Hyojong screamed at the top of his lungs, “I'm not her boyfriend, I don't care what she does!” He glared at her and refused to touch her.

Key had to step in, “People, is this any way to start a new year?” Cue jazz hands. “Have compassion, Choongie just lost his cat.”

“My dog, but I appreciate that.” He corrected.

“My cat had a fall, and I went through hell.” Key explained.

“It's like losing a…” He paused. “How did you know that she fell?”

Namjoon stepped in handing a class to Choongie, “Champagne?”

“Don't mind if I do. To dogs…” He raised his glass.

Everyone snarked back, “No, Benny, to you!”

“Let's make a resolution~” Key said, holding Hyuna’s hand.

She gave a sore smirk, “I'll drink to that!”

“Let's always stay friends.” Namjoon said.

Maman pushed Hyojong back towards the girl he loved, “Though we may have our disputes--”

“This family tree's got deep roots.” Hwasa said, getting a soft smile from her ex.

Hui proclaimed, “Friendship is thicker than blood.”

“That depends…” the blonde said.

“It depends on trust.” Hyuna jabbed.

To which he replied, “Depends on true devotion.”

“I depends on love.” Maman nudged once more.

“Depends on not denying emotion!” Hui said, giving Hyojong a look.

“Perhaps.” Was his only reply.

Hyuna wanted to get out of there, but the others on her side kept her from leaving. It was gonna be a happy new year!

“I guess…” E’Dawn said. “You're right.”

Key cheered, “It's gonna be a happy new year, doll!”

Everyone left to give the two their space and see what was left of their living space. Hwasa and Maman even joined hands, having made up in their own way.

“I'm sorry.” They said in unison.

“Coming?” Hyojong asked.

She nodded, “In a minute. I'm fine. Go~”

He kissed her forehead, proud of her for being clean for so long and trusting her. He just thought she needed her space, but then the dealer arrived with her fix.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” He asked, and the trade happened. “It's gonna be a happy new year.” He said mockingly.

________

VALENTINE’S DAY

Hui’s camera panned across the empty lot, “Hyojong’s down at Hyuna’s where he has been for almost two months now. Although he keeps talking about selling his guitar and heading out of town...he’s still jealous of Choong-ie. God knows where Namjoon and Key are...could be the new shanty town near the river or a suite at the Plaza.”

He decided to go for a walk and record some B footage and passed by where he knew where Hwasa and her on-again-off-again girlfriend would be, “Hwasa and Maman are practicing.” and the man was just about to open the door.

“I SAID, ONCE MORE FROM THE TOP!” Maman commanded.

“I SAID, NO!” Hwasa screamed back.

Hui backed up real quick, “That is if they’re speaking this week.” The he showed his face for the first time since filming. “Me? I’m here...nowhere...alone.”

~~~~~~

“The line is ‘Cyber Arts and its corporate sponsors: Great Communications wish to mitigate the Christmas Eve Riot’ What’s so difficult about that?” Maman said as if it were a piece of cake.

Hwasa gave her a pointed look, “It just doesn’t roll off my tongue.” Then she whined. “I like my version!”

She rolled her eyes, “You dressed as a groundhog to protest the groundbreaking?”

The short haired girl gave an excited nod, “It’s a metaphor!”

“It’s less than brilliant.”

“Ugh!” She stormed off the stage, “That’s it Miss Ivy League!”

Maman was surprised, “What?”

“Ever since New Year’s I haven’t said Boo. I let you direct. I didn’t pierce my nipples because you said it grossed you out. I didn’t stay and dance at the Clit Club that night because you wanted to go home!”

“You were flirting with the woman in rubber!” she pointed out.

Hwasa sighed, “That’s what this is about? There will always be woman in rubber flirting with me, gimme a break.” She went face to face with Maman. “ Every single day I walk down the street, I hear people say ‘baby’s so sweet’. Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me! Boys, girls, I can’t help it, baby.” She walked her fingers up Maman’s lapels and held her chin, “So be kind, and don’t lose your mind. Just remember, that I’m your baby.”

Then she strutted away, taking the long way back to the stage, “Take me for what I am! Who I was meant to be! And if you give a damn, take me, baby or leave me.” The short haired woman smirked. “Take me baby or leave me!”

She lifted her arms high, “A tiger in a cage can never see the sun! This diva needs her stage. Baby, let’s have fun! You are the one I choose! Folks would kill to fill your shoes! You love the limelight too now baby. So be mine, or don’t waste my time crying ‘Oh honey bear are you still my my my baby?’” She went to the center of the stage and stood on the highest stacked crate. “Take me for what I am! Who I was meant to be! And if you give a damn! Take me baby or leave me!”

Hwasa then did a very sensual strut as well as poses to try to convince her girlfriend, “No way can I be what I’m not. But hey! Don’t you want your girl hot? Don’t fight, don’t lose you head, Cause every night who’s in your bed?” She slunk closer. “Who? Who’s in your bed? Kiss, aein?” She stuck out her lips.

Maman put her hand to block it, “It won’t work. I look before I leap. I love margins and discipline. I make lists in my sleep. Baby, what’s my sin? Never quit, I follow through. I hate mess but I love you. What to do with my impromptu baby? So be wise, cause this girl satisfies.” She did a small sexy dance. “You got a prize, so don’t compromise. You’re one lucky baby!” She decided to use her girlfriend’s phrase. “Take me for what I am!”

“A control freak.” Hwasa murmured.

“Who I was meant to be!”

“A snob yet over attentive.”

“And if you give a damn~!”

“Loveable droll geek!” She said slightly above her normal level.

The older woman leaned in, “Take me baby or leave me!”

“And anal retentive!”

That was it! The straw that broke their back. They quit!

Maman wanted to give her a chance, “Unless you take it back!”

Women, what is it about them? You can’t live with them or without them! They said the same things over and over again without trying to compromise or understand the otherside. They just wanted to be taken for what they were, who they were meant to be!

“And if you give a damn, take me baby--” Hwasa began.

The lawyer imitated her lover in bed, “Oh take me, baby!”

“Or leave me!”

Maman yelled back, “Take me, baby! Or leave me!” Followed up by, “Guess I’m leaving!” as she walked away, grabbing her purse.

They both turned to face each other one last time, “I’m gone!”

~~~~~~

Seasons of Love B - What you Own

So I ask you again. How would you measure your life? In diapers, report cards, in spoke wheels, in speeding tickets? In contracts, dollars, in funerals, in births? In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes how do you figure a last year on earth?

Figure in love. I say figure in love. Please figure in love. Measure in love. Seasons of love.

Seasons of love.

It was now spring, and it seems as though Hyuna and Hyojong were missing each other once again. He had been waiting for her for hours now.

She walked in, obviously high, “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Where were you? No, let me guess.” He said, listing off the excuses she gave. “You lost your key? No, no, no. You went for a walk. You had to help your mother.” He sighed and set his jaw. “How’s Choongie?”

Hyuna laughed at the thought, “Babe…”

“Don’t bother.” He already had his guitar back in its case. “I’m working upstairs tonight.”

“Wait!” She called out. “I should tell you. I should tell you…” Then she turned around. “Nevermind.”

Hyojong let out a heavy sigh and began to climb the stairs back to his own apartment, the phrase “Happy Spring” faltering on his lips. Hyuna waited until  he was gone to start working on getting her next high. Then she threw away the packet and realized how lonely she was.

Without you. She thought. The ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows. Without you the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play, the stars gleam. Her legs carried her to the window with her head full of thoughts. The poets dream. The eagles fly.

Without you. The earth turns, the sun burns. Hyuna felt the water droplet on her hands, “But I die without you.”

Time passed, and new flowers had come to life. The two lovebirds didn’t fly near each other much anymore. In fact, they actively avoided each other. Hyojong got angry every time he thought of Hyuna’s red hair, and she didn’t want him to see how bad she had gotten.

While trying to not go to the dealer today, she thought she saw him pass by.

Without you. The breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves. Without you the tides change, the boys run. The oceans crash.

And she continued her job at the Cat Scratch club, eyes bleary as she performed once again, everything moving in slow motion. The crowds roared for her as the days soared.

Hyuna sat outside again after work, not going to his place as she heard wailing. The babies cry without you. She looked up. The moon glows, the river flows, but I die without you.

Hyojong tried to write, “The world revives—”

She stared at a painting in Choongie’s office as she went to see him again, “Colors renew—”

But they knew blue, only blue, lonely blue, within them...blue. Even as Hyuna was undressed by the married man, she thought about her Hyojong and what they could’ve been. Without you the hand gropes, the ear hears, the pulse beats…

The musician couldn’t deny that things weren’t going well in his life either and sung to himself, “Without you, the eyes gaze, the legs walk, the lungs breathe.”

Their minds churned and their hearts yearned. Yet their tears dried without the other in their lives.

The blonde stared out the window to see her linking arms with the yuppie scum and thought Life goes on, but I’m gone cause I die without you. Hyuna looked back as she felt him looking at her, but he moved away from the window at the same time.

Without you.

_____

Hui was at home when the familiar “SPEAK…” followed by a beep went off. A familiar nasally voice rambled off.

“Lee Hwitaek, Alexi Darling. Labor Day Weekend in East Hampton. On the beach~ Just saw Shawn Mendes told him you said ‘Hi’!” She paused. “Just kidding. We still need directors. You still need money. You know you need money. Pick up the phone. Don't be afraid of ker-ching ker-ching! Lee~sell us your soul~”

Another pause, longer this time, “Just kidding. We're waiting…!”

Maybe it was better to take up that offer of recording an orgy that Key told him about from his hospital bed. It’d be less dirty than working for Buzzfed. Fall had approached quickly. It wasn’t soon after recording that Hui got the call that Key passed away.

Everyone rushed to the hospital and cried. Hyuna was holding it pretty well until the doctor unhooked the monitor. Then she sobbed.. Hyojong was gonna reach out to her, but she turned into Hwasa’s arms. Maman pat the young man’s arm while Hui comforted Namjoon who was trying to hold his feelings back but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

Each of them spoke in turn at Key’s funeral. Then it was Namjoon’s turn. He tightly gripped the jacket his love had bought just last winter. Not even a full year ago. She was buried on Halloween, her favorite holiday.

He sang their song instead of speaking, “Live in my house…” he sniffled. “I’ll be your shelter. Just pay me back with one thousand kisses. Be my lover, and I’ll cover you...open your door. I’ll be your tenant. Don’t got much baggage to lay at your feet.”

Joon remembered that winter day they were making out before breaking back into their building. Key had looked amazing in those heels, but the first day they met felt like yesterday. Her legs in those zebra print leggings.

“But sweet kisses I’ve got to spare. I’ll be there, and I’ll cover you. Oh! I think they meant it when they said you can’t buy love, now I know you can rent it. A new lease you...were, my love on life. All my life I’ve longed to discover something as true as this is!”

Maman picked him up by chiming in, “So with a thousand sweet kisses!”

525,600 minutes.

“If you’re cold and you're lonely.” Namjoon continued with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“With a thousand sweet kisses!”

525,600 moments so dear.

“You’ve got one nickel only.”

Maman knew she would never feel as much pain as he did, but still cried along the others, “With a thousand sweet kisses”

525,600 minutes

“When you worn out and you’re tired”

“With a thousand sweet kisses!”

525,000

“When your heart has expired!” Namjoon wailed. “Ooohh, lover, I’ll cover you! Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeahhhhhh! Ohhh lover!” He stared at the coat.

525,000 seasons of love

“I’ll cover you!”

The guests decided to give Namjoon some more time to say goodbye for the last time. Hui had to make a call.

“Hi. It's Hwitaek. Is Alexi there? Uhh, no need to bother her. Just let her know that I'm running late for my appointment. I'm at my friend's---yes, I'll still be there. Yes, I signed the contract… Thanks.” He hung up.

As he gazed across the friends he had collected this year, he took out his phone and pressed record, “How did we get here? How the hell…

Pan left. Close on the steeple of the church.

“How did I get here? How the hell...Christmas.” He smirked to himself. Christmas Eve last year.

How could a night so frozen be so scalding hot?. How can a morning this mild be so raw? Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor of memory when single frames of one magic night forever flicker in. Close-up on the 3D Imax of my mind.

“That's poetic.” He said out loud and scoffed at himself. “That's pathetic.” He changed the angle. “Why did Hyuna knock on Hyojong's door and Namjoon choose that phonebooth back where Key-hyung set up his drums? Why did Hwasa's equipment break down?”

Then he got silent and asked himself, Why am I the witness? And when I capture it on film, will it mean that it's the end and I'm alone?

Hyuna stumbled over the last step looking sickly as she asked Hyojong, “It’s true you sold your guitar, and bought a car?”

He nodded, “It’s true. I'm leaving now for Santa Fe. It’s true you're with this yuppy scum?” He motioned to Choongmin.

The man was unhappy, “You said you'd never speak to him again.”

“Not now.” The girl with a splotchy red dye job said as he found someplace to sick.

Maman helped her.

Hwasa butted in, “Who said that you have any say in who she says things to at all?”

“Yeah!” E’Dawn said.

Everyone was hurting. Maman spoke up, “Who said that you should stick your nose in other people’s---”

“Who said I was talking to you?” Her ex snapped.

They covered their hurt with hate and yelled at others instead of dealing with the pain.

The lawyer caught herself and said, “We used to have this fight each night--”

“Calm down.” Hui tried to stop things from getting worse.

“--She never admit I existed!”

“Everyone, please!” He begged.

Hyuna gave a scornful scoff and paced, “He was the same way. It was always ‘Run away, hit the road, don’t commit.” She shoved him. “You’re full of shit!”

“Noona!” Hyojong called.

Maman looked her ex up and down, “She’s in denial.”

Hyuna did the same, “He’s in denial…”

Hui tried again, “Guys!”

But he didn’t get through to the girls as they aired dirty laundry on such a day as this.

“Didn’t give an inch when I gave a mile.” Doc Martins stomped.

“I gave a mile!” Hyuna yelled.

Hyojong retorted, “Gave a mile to who?”

Now both Hui and Choongmin were trying to get them to calm down, “C’mon guys, chill!”

The girls looked at each other, “I’d be happy to die for a taste of what Kibum had. Someone to live for, unafraid to say ‘I love you’!”

“All your words are nice, noona, but love's not a three way street.” E’Dawn snapped. “You’ll never share real love until you love yourself. I should know.”

Namjoon pushed them apart, pointing at them with Key’s drum sticks, “You all said you’d be cool today, so please for my sake!” He let out a sob. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I can’t believe you’re going. I can’t believe this family must die. Our Key helped us believe in love.” He looked at his friends. “I can’t believe you disagree.”

In their hearts, everyone felt the same thing. I can’t believe this is goodbye.

Hwasa opened her arms, “Aein?”

“Honeybear.” Maman ran into them.

They chattered on about how much they missed each other and started to kiss. Even when one accused the other of biting their tongue, they made up and waved goodbye to the others to be with each other. The priest called for Namjoon who said he was coming to finish things up. Hyuna left with her businessman.

“I hear, there are great restaurants out West.” Hui tried to start a decent conversation.

“Some of the best, how could she?”

He cut the shit real quick, “How could you let her go?”

Hyojong shook his head, “You just don't know.” He sighed and looked at the church. “How could we lose Key-hyung?”

“Maybe you'll see why when you stop escaping your pain. At least now if you try, Kibum's death won't be in vain!”

Anger fueling his words, he replied, “His death is in vain!”

Hui was shocked, “Are you insane? There's so much to care about. There's me, there's Hyuna!”

“Hyuna's got her baggage too.”

“So do you.” He reminded his friend.

“Who are you to tell me what I know? What to do?”

“A friend!”

Hyojong clarified, “But who Hui are you? Hui has got his work’ They say ‘Hui lives for his work and Hui's in love with his work’.” He instead believed that, “Hui hides in his work.”

Hui scoffed, “From what?”

“From facing your failure. Facing your loneliness. Facing the fact you live a lie. Yes, you live a lie! Tell you why. You're always preaching not to be numb when that's how you thrive. You pretend to create and observe when you really detach from feeling alive.”

He set his jaw, “Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive!”

E’Dawn scoffed and threw up his hand, “Poor baby!” He spat.

His dirty blonde friend wasn’t letting him do this to himself, “Noona still loves Hyojong. Is Hyojong really jealous afraid that Hyuna's weak?”

“Hyuna did look pale.” He admitted.

Hui spoke the truth as he wanted his friend to stay, to finish his business at least, “Hyuna's gotten thin. Hyuna's running out of time. Hyojong's running out the door!”

“No more, oh no! I've gotta go.” He grabbed the bag he had with all this things in there. It wasn’t much.

“Hey!” Hui called. “For someone who's always been let down. Who's heading out of town?”

Hyojong shot back, “For someone who longs for a community of his own. Who's with his camera, alone?” He didn’t apologize, but he said, “I'll call. I hate the fall.”

As he went towards his car, he ran into Hyuna.

“You heard?” The embarrassed blonde asked.

She nodded, “Every word...You don't want baggage without lifetime guarantees. You don't want to watch me die. I just came to say goodbye love. Goodbye love, came to say goodbye love. Goodbye. Just came to say goodbye love.

Glory. Hyojong reminded himself.

“Goodbye love.”

One blaze of glory.

“Goodbye love, goodbye.”

He rushed passed her, “I have to find…”

Choongmin reached out his hand, and Hyuna pushed him away, “Please don't touch me, understand. I'm scared. I need to go away.”

Hui spoke up, “I know a place, a clinic.”

“A rehab?” Her boyfriend suggested.

She nodded, “Maybe. Could you?”

He nodded as well, “I'll pay.”

Hyuna still said her farewells, “Goodbye love, goodbye love. Came to say goodbye love, goodbye. Just came to say goodbye love. Goodbye love, goodbye love. Goodbye love,” She coughed. “Hello, disease!”

She ran off, and Choongmin thought it best not to follow.

Namjoon came out of the church being yelled at by the parson, “Off the premises now, we give no handouts here!”

“What happened to rest in peace?” Hui asked.

The priest glared at him, “Off the premises,” and he used their word against them.

Namjoon pointed at him, his love’s drumsticks in hand, “That’s no way to send a boy to meet his maker! They had to know we couldn’t pay the undertaker.”

Hui went to comfort his friend. What would they do?

Choongmin spoke up, “Don’t you worry about a thing. Hey!” He called to the frocked man. “I’ll take care of it!”

The priest rolled his eyes and closed the door on them.

“Must be nice to have money?” Hui said.

“No shit.” The others said in unison.

Then the man wearing a gray beanie admitted, “I think it only fair to tell you, you just paid for the funeral of the person who killed your dog.”

“I know.” Choongmin chuckled. “I’ve always hated that dog.” He then threw his arm around the two and said, “Let’s pay him off and then get drunk.”

Hui sighed, “Can’t. I have a meeting.”

“Punk.” Namjoon said.

Choongie nodded his head to the nearest bar, “Let’s go.”

The two men left for the bottom of a bottle and the dirty blonde filmer sat in front of a camera and a colorful but neutral background as he talked about something going on in the world of k-pop and how it was coming more important in American pop culture, but it was just gossip about certain idols instead of the things that mattered. The things Hui actually wanted to do.

He asked himself what was he doing?

“Don't breathe too deep.” Someone scolded him.

“Don't think all day.” Another senior told him while handing him a new article. “Dive into work.”

December came even more quickly than it had last year. E’Dawn wasn’t getting jobs and found himself constantly writing about Hyuna. Everything he penned down or scribbled on cafe napkins was about her.

Drive the other way. Hui told himself. That drip of hurt, that pint of shame goes away just play the game. Why was this a thing? He chuckled and said to himself. You're living in America at the end of the millenium. You're living in America leave your conscience at the tone.

And when you're living in America at the end of the millenium. You're what you own. The filmmaker cannot see and the songwriter cannot hear. Yet Hyojong saw Hyuna everywhere while Kibum’s voice was in Hui’s ear. They tried to ignore it by telling themselves to just tighten those shoulders. Just clench your jaw til you frown. Just don't let go or you may drown.

You're living in America at the end of the millenium. You're living in America where it's like the Twilight Zone. And when you're living in America at the end of the millenium. You're what you own.

So they decided to own not a notion, to escape and ape content.

“I don't own emotion,” Hyojong said as he decided drive back to New York. “I rent.” He hadn’t painted his nails black in such a long time.

Hui stood on the roof of his building projecting clips onto a sheet and paused on a clip of the first day, “What was it about that night? Connection in an isolating age.”

For once the shadows gave way to light.

“For once I didn't disengage.” Then he stood and paced. “Angel, I hear you, I hear it

E’Dawn knocked on the closed pawn shop, “Mimi I see you, I see it.”

“I see it, I see it, my film!”

“I hear it, I hear it, my song!” the blonde said now with blue hair.

Hui quickly grabbed the land line and called to do something he had wanted to do for a long time, “Alexi, Hui, call me a hypocrite. I need to finish my own film! I quit!” He hung up. “One Song Glory.” No. That’s not what was important anymore. Was it ever. What mattered now was, “Hyuna, Your Eyes!”

“I quit!” Hui said.

Dying in America at the end of the millenium. They were dying in America to come into their own. And when you're dying in America at the end of the millenium. You're not alone.

Hyojong ran to the roof and smiled as he saw his friend standing there, “I'm not alone!”

“I'm not alone.” He embraced his cool toned buddy tightly.

Voice Mail #5 - Finale B

SPEAK. Beep

A slightly rough but beautiful voice came over the speaker, “Hyojong, this is your mother. Hyojong, honey, I don't get these postcards. ‘Moving to Santa Fe’ then ‘Back in New York Starting a rock band’ Hyojong, where are you? Please call.”

On a cell phone backstage at the Cat Scratch, a message was left, “Hyuna, dal, eodiya? Neoui eomma. Eodiya, Hyuna? Call.”

A very busy office phone remained unanswered, “Kitten, wherever are you? Call me.”

Later, over the speaker after SPEAK and a beep, “Hui, are you there? Are you there. I don't know if he's there. We're all here wishing you were here too. Where are you, Hwitaek? Are you there, are you? Where are you? Hui, are you there? Are you there. I don't know if...Please call your mother!”

______

Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing. Christmas bells are ringing. How time flies. When compassion dies. No stockings. No candy canes. No gingerbread. The homeless mourned: No safety net. No loose change. No change no...

“Santy Claus is coming!” He simulated jacking himself off.

The others just put up with it. Cause Santy Claus ain't coming. No room at the Holiday Inn again. Well, maybe next year or when.

Hui turned on the camera, “December 24th, ten PM. Eastern standard time. I can't believe a year went by so fast. Time to see what we have time to see.” He turned the projector on.

First shot was Hyojong with the fender guitar he just got out of hock when he sold the car that took him away and back.

He grinned, “I found my song.”

The dirty blonde nodded, “He found his song. Now if he could just find Hyuna.”

“I tried.” He said and added with a heavy heart. “You know I tried.”

Hui turned the camera on himself, “Fade in on Hui who's still doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Hyojong joked, “But he's got great footage which he's cut together to screen tonight.”

“In honor of Choongie’s wife--”

“Muffy--”

The man chucked, “Alison, pulling Choongie out of the East Village location.”

Then the lights cut off.

The blue haired E’Dawn looked up, “Then again, maybe we won't screen it tonight.”

Sitting in one of the foldable chairs, Hui asked, “I wonder how Alison found out about Hyuna.”

“Maybe a little bird told her.”

Namjoon appeared in the doorway, “Or someone gave her the key. I had a little hunch that you could use a little flow.”

“Tutoring again?” Hyojong asked, accepting the cash.

“Negative.” He sat on the table and pulled his feet up.

Hui questioned, “Back at N.Y.U.?”

The man shook his head, “No, no, no. I rewired the ATM at the food emporium to provide an honorarium to anyone with the code.”

“The code?” Hui tilted his head but received no answer.

E’Dawn nudged Joonie, “Um...?”

Namjoon smiled, “K-I-B-U-M. Yet Robin Hooding isn't the solution. The powers that be must be undermined where they dwell. In a small, exclusive gourmet institution where we overcharge the wealthy clientele.”

They chuckled as their friend began to say, “Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe”

“Santa Fe” the other two copied.

“With a private corner banquette--”

All three said, “In the back.”

It felt like old times as they talked about Namjoon’s someday dream, “We'll make it yet, we'll somehow get to Santa Fe.”

Hyojong gave a little smile, “But you'd miss New York before you could unpack.”

Their fun humming and catch up session was interrupted by a call from downstairs.

“Hui! E’Dawn! Anyone help!”

Hui looked out the window, “Hwasa?”

Her and Maman were carrying something, or someone, “It's Hyuna! I can't get her up the stairs!” “No!” Hyojong screamed.

Quickly, the guys helped get Hyuna upstairs while they got her onto the table and used all their jackets to warm her up.

Hwasa explained, “She was huddled in the park in the dark and she was freezing, and begged to come here.”

“Over here? Oh, God.”

Hyuna mumbled, “Got a light. I know you. You're shivering.”

Maman put her scarf under her head, “She's been living on the street.”

“We need some heat.” Hyojong said.

“I'm shivering.”

Hui said, “We can buy some wood and something to eat.”

Namjoon put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I'm afraid she needs more than heat.”

“I heard that.” Hyuna piped up.

Hwasa held her hand, “Collins will call for a doctor, honey.”

She shook her head, “Don't waste your money on me…”

“Hello 911?” Namjoon spoke on his phone. Then he sighed. “I'm on hold.”

“Cold...cold... would you light my candle?” The black haired girl sang.

Hyojong nodded where she could see, “Yes we'll--oh God. Someone find a candle!”

She pulled him closer, “I should tell you. I should tell you.”

“I should tell you. I should tell you.” He forced back tears.

Hyuna touched his face, “I should tell you, Choongmin wasn't any--” She turned her head and coughed.

Wanting her to save her energy, Hyojong sushed her, “Shhh. I know. I should tell you why I left. It wasn't cause I didn't--” love you.

“I know. I should tell you.”

“I should tell you.”

She looked in his eyes, “I should tell you. I love...y…” her body went limp.

Hyojong sobbed, “Who do you think you are? Leaving me alone with my guitar?”

Hyuna inhaled deeply and coughed once more. Quickly, her true love grabbed his guitar and returned to his darling’s side.

“Hold on! There's something you should hear. It isn't much, but it took all year.”

The blue-haired boy strummed his guitar, “Your eyes as we said our goodbyes, can't get them out of my mind. And I find I can't hide from your eyes. The ones that took me by surprise. The night you came into my life/Where there's moonlight, I see your eyes. How'd I let you slip away when I'm longing to hold you? Now I'd die for one more day `Cause there's something I should have told you. Yes there's something I should have told you when I looked into your eyes.” He wiped his face. “Why does distance make us wise? You were the song all along and before the song dies! I should tell you, I should tell you”

He set the guitar down and held her hands tightly, “I have always loved you. You can see it in my eyes.”

They kissed and then she was gone. Hyuna stopped breathing. Everyone huddled together and held on to one another. Hwasa clung to her fiance Maman. Hyojong felt his heart break. He had tried to hard to find her so that he could be with her for however long they had left. It wasn’t supposed to be this short! He would do anything to have her back.

“NOONAAAA!” He wailed.

Hyuna sat up with a start, “I jumped over the moon!!!!”

Everyone was shook.

“W-What?” Hyojong asked.

“A leap of moooooooooooo…” She looked around, dazed.

Maman gasped, “She's back.”

“I was in a tunnel. Heading for this warm, white light!” Hyuna explained.

Hwasa hit her girlfriend’s chest, “Oh my god!”

She continued, “And I swear Key was there and she looked GOOD!” She let out a chuckle. “And she said ‘Turn around, girlfriend, and listen to that boy's song’”

Namjoon started to remove the jackets and blankets, “She's drenched.”

“Her fever's breaking,” The short haired girl added.

A profound thought came to Hui, “There is no future. There is no past.”

Hyojong looked at her, “Thank God this moment's not the last.” He hugged her tightly as both of them spoke together. “There's only us. There's only this. Forget, regret or life is yours to miss. Though it took just a year for them to learn here's only now, remind yourself that sometimes there's only here. Make sure to give in to love or you’ll live in fear. There’s no other path. No other way.

No day but today!

[rfsak2]

Embraced

All of this had been on my phone btw, as my computer is dead dead this time. If you notice any formatting weirdness, you can mention it (I appreciate it if you do) but I may not be able to do anything about it until later this week. Bear with me!

While I’m personally trying to keep this Reader as general as possible, I love creating characters and that seeps in. If something doesn’t fit with you, just ignore it please!!

Also thanks for loving this y'all!! This makes my day!!

Embraced Summary: It was lucky his arms were so long. Jack Lowden/Reader Warnings: There’s… some kissing. Enjoy!

She crossed her arms stubbornly and Jack thought she looked adorable. A tiny little Valkyrie in poor temper.

Chris smiled and squatted to dip his fingers in the lake. “It’s very comfortable-”

She mimicked him and stood so fast she almost fell. Shaking her head, she cussed under her breath. “Cold. It’s cold. I’m not a European. I’m from the desert. I don’t go jumping frigid lakes for shits and giggles.” She frowned. “Aside from all that, you promised.”

Chris nodded. “And I’ll hold to it, but you’re my best camera and the shot is honestly going to make this scene. Besides you’ll be wearing a wetsuit. That will keep you warm.”

She considered that, knowing that flattery got Chris everywhere. “I really don’t like large bodies of water.”

“Ye scared, hen?” Jack rubbed his hand over her back, pulling her close to him. “I’ll be wit’ you.”

“That’s right, Jack will be in the water with you. Everything will be fine. Come on, love, I need you. This is your speciality, Y/N.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

Chris smiled and pulled her into a hug. “You won’t regret this when you get nominated for an Oscar, little one.”

She rolled her eyes and he wandered off to do whatever it was he needed to do. She stared into the water. Jack laid an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “Wha’ is it, lovie?”

She scuffed her foot along the wet wood of the dock. “There aren't… nevermind that’s stupid.”

Jack shook his head. “Wha’ is it?”

She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

He turned her towards him and framed cupped either side her face, thumbs smoothing the skin in front of her ears. “What is it?”

She sighed and glanced up at him through her lashed before shrugging. “I know this is completely irrational… but there aren’t sharks right?”

She could tell he was about to laugh, clearly not expecting that, but he swallowed the smile and shook his head. “No, Y/N, there are no sharks.”

She nodded and chuckled. “It’s a bit silly…”

He shook his head and knock foreheads lightly with her. “Where ye’re from I imagine sharks are more common. They’re pretty rare here. Besides,” he winked, “if there are any sharks, I’ll punch th’buggers in th’nose.”

She grinned. “My hero.” Taking a deep breath, she pulled away. “It’s lunch time. I suppose we should go.”

“S’pose so, hen.” He nodded and motioned for her to precede him.

As she turned, her foot caught a wet patch and honest to God, time slowed.

She could feel her body pitch forward, arms trying to help her keep her balance, feet still trying to find purchase in the slick wood.

She was going in that lake, whether she liked it or not. Fate was a cruel bitch.

Wait do I have my phone in my pocket? Shit!

A bare second later that also somehow felt like an eternity and she felt more then saw Jack move. His arm wrapped around her like a metal band and he pulled her to his chest before she could fall into the dark lake.

She breathed deep and let her head fall back on to his shoulder. She could hear Jack’s heart hammering against his ribs.

“Are ye alright, love?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.” She turned toward him and wrapped herself around his middle, smiling up at him. “You really are my hero.”

He chuckled and squeezed tighter to him. “Aye.”

She sighed and took advantage of the situation. Burrowing into his chest, she wondered, not for the first time, if he was ever going to ask her out.

Bloody Harry.

She had been so sure that he had been about to ask her out.

He rubbed her back and she felt his lips press into the crown of her head.

**

The dreaded day was here.

She rubbed her hands over the wet suit. She was still rather nervous but she turned and smiled at Jack.

His eyes went wide and he blushed and she realized that his eyes had been suspiciously low.

She reddened and he stuttered. He swallowed dryly and she almost laughed.

He was so cute.

“What’chu lookin’ at?”

He grinned, still ruddy with embarrassment. “Ready?”

She nodded and smiled. “As I’ll ever be. Though honestly, if we don’t do this soon, I’ll lose my nerve.”

He grinned. “It’ll be fine, hen. I’ll be right there wit’ ye.”

She nodded and let the sight of a fine man in uniform distract her from the cold, dark waters of the lake.

Damn…

“Get set!” Chris stepped down the dock ladder and motioned for Y/N to follow him. She took a deep breath, sparing a smile at Jack, and followed. As he foot touched the first rung on the ladder, she felt Jack take her hand and help her into the water.

“Than-” she yelped abruptly as she stepped up to the knee into the water. “Comfortable, my ass! Holy fuck!”

Chris laughed. “It’s not that bad!”

The look on her face sent the crew still on the dock and Jack into fits of laughter and she glared at the lot of them.

“Bloody Europeans.” She glowered at Jack, the effect somewhat diminished by her chattering teeth. “Get in the damn plane, Jack.”

Jack laughed again and nodded. “Alright, love, alright. But you actually haf ta git in th’water.”

She took a deep breath and held it before shoving away from the ladder and fully submerging herself. “Fuckin’ bullshit!”

Jack cackled as he stepped into the plane.

“‘It’ll be fine, hen.’ Load of shit.” She muttered under her breath and accepted her waterproof camera from her assistant.

When she turned to float over to the side of the ‘downed’ plane, Jack smiled at her from his seat. “Ye’re like a little cat, angry that she fell in the bath.”

She huffed. “I don’t like being wet.”

He nodded. “Oh, I think that’s obvious, lovely.” He leaned forward. “I’m confused though, hen. I thought ye were scared and yet, here ye are spitting and hissing like an angry kitten.”

She smiled, finding it hard to stay angry when faced with those dimples, and checked the focus on the camera.

“Hard to be scared when someone told me he’d punch a shark for me.” She glanced at him from under her lashes and bit her lip.

He grinned and booped her nose. “I’d punch any number of sharks fer ye. Every bloody shark in the universe, if need be.”

She blushed and giggled. “Okay, Sir Shark Puncher, let’s get this done.”

He saluted smartly. “Aye!”

Chris called the scene and they settled into do as many takes from as many angles as they could while they had the light.

When it was done, she all but raced to the ladder and handing off her camera, was handed a blanket upon leaving the water. She shivered and rubbed at her arms, turning to see Jack leave the plane, the blue wool of his uniform clinging to his body in all the right places.

She opened her blanket. “You want to share your warmth?” Her teeth were still chattering and he nodded, rushing to her and wrapping himself around her.

She wrapped the blanket around his large frame as best she could and pushed her face against the slick, wet plastic of his flight vest.

“See not too bad, yeah, Y/N?”

She shrugged noncommittally and Jack chuckled against her hair.

“I better get a damn oscar.”

**

She set a six-pack of beer on the table and sat on the floor. “What are we watching?”

Tom regarded her from the couch. “Do you want to sit on the couch?”

She shook her head. “I want to lay down.”

Her phone dinged and she looked down.

Jack: can I come cuddle with you?

She nodded and smiled at him from where he sat next to Tom.

Bring a pillow and a blanket.

He grinned and Harry huffed. “Quit texting each other from across the bloody room! It’s irritating.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t be jelly.”

Jack stood and made to grab the couch pillow. Harry fell on it dramatically.

“No! Get your own!!”

“This is my bloody hotel room. All of the pillows are mine.” Jack laughed and made for the bed, grabbing a pillow and the duvet.

Harry shook his head. “I have claimed this pillow. It is mine.”

She snorted and stood, helping Jack spread out the duvet. “You are a child.”

Fionn looked suspicious as Jack sat next to Y/N on the floor. “What are you doing, Jack?”

Jack grinned, laid back and got comfortable, Y/N following him down and resting her head on his chest.

Harry patted Fionn’s knee. “We’ll explain it when you’re older. Also you two, no funny business. There are minors present.”

Jack wrapped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side. Looking over her head, he flipped Harry the bird.

“In your dreams, Harry.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

She blushed and glanced at Jack. Shrugging, she whispered to him. For his ears only. “We’re hot, pretty boy. But I don’t make porn.”

Jack flushed and he shifted her closer. “Bloody hell, woman.”

She giggled and bit her lip. “What are we watching anyways?”

Harry listed off a couple scary movies which were quickly shot down.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno… Jaws?”

Jack chuckled as Y/N muffled a squeak against his chest.

He leaned into her, lips against her forehead as he spoke. “I’ll protect ye, hen.”

“Thanks, rooster.”

**

“To the bar?”

The was an answering chorus in agreement and the men started toward their local. Y/N dropped back and Jack paused to look back at her. “Ye comin’, hen?”

She made a face and shook her head. “Nah.. I think I’m going to go back. I’m exhausted and I’m a bit people-d out. I think I may need some me time.”

He looked disappointed. “Well-”

“Though…” She blushed. “If you feel particularly inclined, me time is easily exchangeable for.. Jack time.”

Jack grinned. “Yeah? Not sick of me?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well, what do ye know.. I think I do feel ‘particularly inclined’. I think I may need some Y/N time.” Still grinning like a loon, offered his arm to her. She hooked her hand in his elbow and Jack called to the still walking actors.

“Oi! Imma walk th’lady home!”

“Have a good night, Y/N.” Tom nodded sagely. “See you later, Jack?”

Barry snorted. “No we won’t! He’ll be staying with her, I’d imagine. He’s done a runner’.”

Jack shrugged, unashamed. “Yer mad if ye think I would trade th’company of a bonnie lass for ye lot.”

“Yeah, uh-uh.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Get out of here.”

He smiled and turned toward the hotel. They chatted for a bit, but both were feeling the tension between them.

Jack hummed and chuckled to himself.

“What?”

He looked at her and smiled, shrugging. “Ah dinnae ken- I don’t know- if this means to ye, what it means to me.”

She pressed her cheek to his bicep. “Well… what does it mean to you?”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I want to date ye.”

She slipped her hand into his pocket, chasing his hand. “Then yeah… I think this means to me what it means to you.”

He chuckled. “Guid.”

Ten minutes later they were safely ensconced in her hotel room, having changed into comfy clothes. Jack was laid out on her bed, arms folded behind his head. She sat cross-legged next him scrolling through Netflix.

“Do you just want to watch like, Parks and Rec or something?”

“Ye choose, hen.” He shrugged and she cast it on to the television before settling against him, head on his shoulder, arm stretched across his chest.

He settled back against the pillow, one arm sliding down her side to rest on her hip. With his free hand, he picked up the hand on his chest, threading his fingers through hers.

She smiled and turned to look up at him. His eyes- so blue -were focused on their intertwined hands.

“Yer hands are so small…” His voice was deeper than it was normally and his accent stronger and she shivered.

Feeling her move, he turned his head to focus on her face instead.

They were still for a moment, then he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his.

She gasped and stretched along his side- like a cat, he would note later- pressing closer to him. He grinned against her lips and left her hand on his chest to thread his long fingers into the hair at the back of her head.

She giggled and fisted her hand in his shirt before pulling back slightly to smile at him, swollen lip caught in her teeth.

He groaned. “Lass, ye’re killin’ me…”

She hummed and he stroked his thumb over her imprisoned lip. Tugging it free with a smile the likes of which she has never seen on his face, he leaned into her again and kissed her, hot and open-mouthed.

Suddenly she was pressed back into the pillow and her senses are filled with Jack and Jack only.

She sighed and he pressed closer, his tongue tangling with hers even as his hips press tight against her. The arm that is still locked around her tightened, lifting her up into his embrace.

Damn the man can kiss.

She lifted her hands and cradled his face, shifted slightly away from him to suck air into her lungs.

He grinned and captured her bottom lip, sucking gently on it. “Where’re ye goin’? Get back ‘ere, lass.”

“Holy shit.”

He chuckled and moved to worry his lips along the line of her jaw. She huffed and pulled his face around to face her again, biting at his lip. He grunted and pressed her back into the bed, shifting so he was fully laying against her, one elbow bearing his weight by her shoulder, the opposite hand had found its way under her shirt.

“Don’t tease me, love.”

She laughed against his mouth. “Me?” She kissed him again. “You’re the bloody tease.”

He grinned. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this.” He pulled away and touched his forehead to hers. “Since th’moment I first met ye, I wanted ye.”

“Then stop keeping me waiting.”

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