#that big sense of community we all felt the last two days has already fallen away at least in my corner of the internet

[harryshomebaby]

all of a sudden today everything has kind of just gone silent in my corner of the internet and my friends aren’t on their phones anymore and now im alone

[ijustwant2write]

‘I want that with you’-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @misskatesharma​)

Requested by @elennox03: ‘I’d like to request an Anthony Bridgerton x read imagine. I’m a huge sucker for husband!anthony. Can you write an imagine where Anthony and his wife are visiting the Bridgerton house and he sees his wife with his youngest sibilings and he realizes he wants to be a dad. When they leave and go back to their house he admits to her that he wants a kid and it’s really fluffy and maybe a little smutty? 🥺’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Bridgerton family x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: LOTS OF FLUFF, SMUT

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anthony sat at the table, newspaper in hand as he waited for his wife to join him for breakfast. The servants were ready to serve the food as soon as the Viscountess sat down. Anthony was engrossed in the headlines of the day, until he heard someone descending the stairs. He hoped it was his wife, smiling when he saw the doors being opened for her in his peripheral. 

“Good morning darling.” he greeted.

“Good morning. Sorry to keep you waiting, last time we visited your family I promised Hyacinth I would wear this dress, it is her favourite.” she approached him, kissing him on the forehead before taking her seat, where a servant pushed it in for her. 

“No bother, we shall still be there on time.” Anthony put down the newspaper as breakfast was laid out in front of them.

“I am excited to be visiting again. Especially since Daphne’s season is coming up.”

Anthony’s happy expression vanished at the thought.“Don’t remind me.”

(Y/N) giggled at her husband as they started eating.“Here he is, the protective older brother.”

“Well, I have to be. We both know men will come flocking towards her, and she will be so hypnotised by it that she won’t think about getting to know them. And to add to that, I know a majority of the men in this community, they go to my club, and there’s a lot I don’t want near her.”

“Oh darling, don’t get yourself too stressed over these matters. I’m sure you will have no trouble finding someone for her. Now let us eat, I am starving.”

Once they finished, the pair headed to the foyer, their servants already waiting with gloves, coats and capes, as well as a hat for Anthony. They put on everything, (Y/N) taking Anthony’s arm as they walked outside to the carriage. The couple didn’t need to speak to enjoy each others company, still holding hands as they looked out of the windows, the familiar streets passing by, before they both recognised the area in which their family lived in. (Y/N) loved being a Bridgerton, not only because she had fallen completely in love with Anthony, but because he had the most wonderful family. She had many friends who’s families were stuck up, or too strict, with some only just liking their husbands. (Y/N)’s whole body filled up with adoration for Anthony every time she looked at him, and her heart swelled whenever he looked back. (Y/N) knew she was extremely lucky, and she was thankful for that every single day. 

When they arrived at the Bridgerton house, they were welcomed in, taken to the drawing room where the entire family was sat. Gregory and Hyacinth were the first to make a move, jumping off of their chairs and shouting out their brother and sister-in-law’s names. Anthony scooped up his younger brother as (Y/N) knelt down to capture Hyacinth in a hug. When the married couple had first started courting, Hyacinth had been in awe of (Y/N), wondering if Anthony was in love with a princess.

The rest of the Bridgerton’s also stood to welcome Anthony and (Y/N). Hyacinth took (Y/N)’s hand and pulled her towards the sofa, sitting down together. She looked over (Y/N)’s dress, thrilled that she remembered to wear that one. As Violet began a conversation with (Y/N), Anthony approached Daphne, intending to talk about her upcoming season, but she beat him to it.

“Anthony, I should like to ask you a few questions regarding my debut.” Daphne started.

“Wonderful, I was just about to bring up the matter. So, in a few weeks, you shall be presented-”

“No, I know how it all works brother. Mama has told me all about it. I wanted to ask you about, well, the more personal side of it. And I think it would benefit me to see it from a gentleman’s perspective.”

Anthony dreaded to think what she would come up with.“Ah, maybe this is a conversation for mama-”

“I was wondering what it felt like when you realised (Y/N) was the one for you. How did you choose her? Was it something that stood out? Something I should be doing?”

Anthony chuckled at his sister’s questions, and how innocent she was. He wished she would stay like this forever.“I believe it is different for everyone sister. I...I don’t know how to explain it, but,” he looked over to (Y/N), who now had Hyacinth cuddled into her side as she and Violet talked,“it felt right. Like when you know the answer to a question, and that feeling of certainty goes through you. You don’t have any ‘what ifs’ about the future, because you know that no matter what happens, they will be the person by your side.”

Daphne smiled as she glanced in the same direction, before looking back to her brother. She had seen that expression of his many times when he was with (Y/N), and she wished someone would look at her that way during her season.

“(Y/N),” Gregory caught her attention. He was sat on the floor,“will we be having a cousin soon? Some of my friends have loads of cousins to play with.”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure how to answer, and Violet sensed that. The older siblings felt a slight awkwardness in the air, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Violet smiled, trying to lighten the mood.“Why don’t we take lunch outside? It is such a beautiful day.”

The eldest siblings all quickly agreed, moving almost immediately. Gregory felt that he had said something wrong, especially wen he saw (Y/N)’s face. Anthony was about to comfort her when Gregory stood up and held her hand, Hyacinth was already holding the other one. 

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” he said, pouting slightly.

(Y/N) gave him a comforting smile, kneeling down between the two.“Don’t worry, you did no such thing. Tell you what, why don’t we play outside after lunch? But you’ve got to let me win at least one game.”

The children giggled, knowing that (Y/N) had never been very good at winning whatever games they played. But both nodded, going ahead of her when she gently pushed them forwards. Standing back up, she realised Anthony had been watching her the whole time.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.” he replied, quickly pecking her on the lips.“Come, let us join our family.”

The rest of the afternoon went by too fast for (Y/N)’s liking. Over lunch she discussed Daphne’s debut, giving her advice on how to deduct herself and little ways to flirt when Anthony and Violet weren’t listening. Their giggles didn’t go unnoticed, Anthony scolding Collin and Benedict for not paying attention to the girls. 

“(Y/N), can we go play now?” Gregory asked as soon as she was finished eating.

“Gregory, you have only just finished for food too. Wait a while, otherwise you will have a bad stomach.” Violet warned him.

“She is not a toy for you two to play with. Some of us would like to speak with (Y/N) too you know.” Daphne pointed out, only to have Gregory stick his tongue out at her.

“We will play once our food has settled, yes?” (Y/N) nodded to the children, who knew they would be waiting as the grown ups talked. 

Anthony had that thought again. Hyacinth and Gregory adored (Y/N), and she had such a way with children. And it wasn’t all smooth sailing with these two, (Y/N) had told them off a few times. It was natural thing that came to her, a natural thing he had put off for so long. Of course, they wanted to enjoy their time together without children, but seeing her like this, and with children of friends started to make him think that perhaps it was time. (Y/N) had only ever expressed her wanting of children once, which lead to an argument. Anthony had always felt pressured to be the one to marry first and produce heirs, so when he found (Y/N), his mama subtly hinted to him about having a baby as soon as possible; just to spite her, Anthony convinced (Y/N) not to dive headfirst into parenthood, something she went along with because she saw how stressed Anthony became on the subject. However, (Y/N) didn’t want to be past her time before it was too late to have a child.

“Alright then,” (Y/N) said as she, the two youngest and Collin stood on the grass,“what game are we playing?”

“Hide and seek!” Hyacinth quickly shouted before Gregory could even open his mouth.

“That’s so boring!” her brother whined.

“And aren’t (Y/N) and I slightly too big to be hiding?” Collin pointed out.

(Y/N) mocked offence.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it!”

(Y/N) laughed at him, much to Collin’s relief.

“Gregory, we do always play whatever you want.” (Y/N) said.“We’ll play hide and seek today.”

Hyacinth cheered, saying (Y/N) was the seeker before running off. Gregory was fast behind her, whilst Collin shrugged at (Y/N), going off to hide too. (Y/N) just rolled her eyes as she smiled, turning the other way and beginning to count. The others were still sat at the table, engrossed in a conversation, but Anthony was still watching (Y/N). She shook her head at him, still counting until she reckoned they were given enough time to hide. She announced she was coming, looking under benches and around trees and hedges, behind statues and pillars. Collin was the first to be found, unfortunately he was right about being too big to hide. They both set out to find the other two, keeping as quiet as they could.

(Y/N) heard rustling behind her, before something moved in behind the rose bushes. She held back for a moment, waking alongside it slowly to not alert the player  of her presence. Once they had no where else to go, (Y/N) waited for them to make a run for it, jumping out at them. This caused them to collide as they both yelped out, but ending up laughing as (Y/N) realised it was Hyacinth that she had caught. As they sat up, with (Y/N) checking she hadn’t hurt the girl, Collin came bounding over with Gregory over his shoulder.

Anthony knew what he wanted, and in that moment he had no patience. He wanted to tell (Y/N) about his intentions now, but knew it would be better to have that conversation in private. It was going to happen tonight, he needed to say it.

On the way home, (Y/N) noticed how Anthony’s hand was on her thigh, rather than holding her hand, and he was as close to her as he could possibly be. He kept kissing her too, holding her face in his other hand. Some were gentle and long kisses, other were hungry and passionate. (Y/N) was flustered, wondering why he was acting this way. When they arrived home, Anthony took her hand in his, quickly guiding her upstairs to their room.

“Anthony, what are-”

(Y/N) was silenced as he kissed her again, his hands now holding her waist. She embraced it, gripping onto his biceps as he walked them towards the bed. He pulled away, scooping her into his arms and gently laying her down on the bed. He straddled her, leaning down to kiss her again as she pushed off his jacket, trying to take off his shirt too. He sat up, taking it off, and for a moment, he was content with just looking at his wife. 

“Anthony?” she whispered.

His urges drove him forward, kissing down her neck and on top of her breasts, pulling her to sit up with him so he could undo her dress. She told him to stand, as did she, turning around so it was easier to rid of the garment. Once it was off, he pressed his body against the back of hers, taking a second to slow down. He ran his hands from her lower back, rounding her waist and cupping her breasts. She moaned at his touch, purposefully pushing against his crotch. He moved her to face him, knowing he had to tell her what was on his mind now before he completely forgot about them.

“(Y/N).” was all he managed to get out.

“Yes?” she looked back up at him with her beautiful eyes. 

“I...I want us to have a family.”

“I do too.”

“No, I mean...I’m ready.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I know I am. After seeing you today with my brother and sister, well, whenever you’re around children, I realised how selfish I have been. I married you because I love you. And love comes in many forms. One way to express our love is by creating a family of our own.”

“Anthony, are you sure? Because, because you know how happy that would make me?”

He smiled.“And that’s all I want to do, make you happy.”

“You do so every day. But this means the world to me. I love you.”

“I love you, so much. We’re ready (Y/N), we know what we both want. I want that with you.”

[mardereads19]

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 25:

Continuation of Day 8: Invisible String.

Cassian followed Elain as she circled in silent feet the camp along the shore of Koschei’s lake. They kept hidden behind the trees, but shadows surrounded both of them, blocking out any other noise that might escape by mistake while also keeping them out of sight.

Earlier today, when Elain had exited the tent after her vision, and had done as the shadow had bade her to do —follow— Elain discovered that there was more than one of them waiting for her. Shadows began to appear without notice, and Elain could not tell if they were Azriel’s shadows escaping from wherever Koschei was holding them captive or if they were new shadows coming over to help her. What she did know, however, was that she could communicate with them, and that they followed her lead.

Azriel, one of them whispered in her ear and Elain came to a stop, crouching low to look over a fallen tree trunk at the conglomeration of tents.

Cassian’s brows had been furrowed in grim determination and fury ever since Amren had confirmed there had been fear in Azriel’s tent, but now he scanned the dark glade, lifting an eyebrow. “Koschei has gathered forces since we last saw him.”

The Inner Circle had barely wasted an hour back at their glade to come up with a plan to rescue Azriel. They had expected a few other males to fight aside the death-lord, but this many soldiers? It was riskier than any of them had anticipated. It also did not help at all that it was the dead of night with no moon to help them see. There were only a few lamps every several feet and a bonfire by the center of this camp.

“Shit,” Cassian whispered, a slight quiver in his voice. Elain looked at him and by his expression she gathered that it was fear that had made his voice shake. Elain’s shoulder sagged. What could possibly make a determined Cassian blanch in fear? He swallowed and pointed ahead. Elain glanced to where he was pointing expecting the worst, but she saw nothing urgent. Only a flag she did not know waving in the soft breeze in a quiet tent. “Rask.”

Elain understood, then. One of the three countries they had feared could join with Hybern during the war was already allied with Koschei. It would be a matter of time before the other two also joined in.

“This must only be a small fraction of its army,” Cassian murmured, shaking his head. “Shit.”

Elain dispelled the worry that entered her mind at the new knowledge and instead focused on the task at hand. Azriel. There would be time to worry after he was safely in her arms.

When Elain had been in Hybern and her sister and shadowsinger had come to save her, Feyre had been able to shift into that priestess that she had known well. But neither Cassian nor Elain could shift and neither of them knew anyone here to use as leverage. Going in and out of this camp was a work meant for stealth. Meant for spies.

Meant for shadows.

I have need of you, she whispered to her friends. The ones surrounding her stilled, listening. She relaid her plan to them, wondering if the shadows would approve —if Azriel would approve— but they made no comment before Elain observed as a few of them slipped away and into the camp, staying close to the ground and hidden in the darkness.

Cassian stopped looking at the Rask flag and glanced between the retreating shadows and Elain. She knew he had questions, just like the rest of the inner circle had. None had said them out loud, but the time would come for them to do so. What would Elain answer? She didn’t know how she had gained the power to understand the shadows. The only thing she did know was that she was the only one who could help Azriel and that the shadows had sensed this. They had winnowed her and Cassian here.

Other than that, she was just as confused as her friends and family were.

A few murmurs made their way over to them, the conversation not quite discernible, but she strained to hear it. Two males, by the sound of it. She heard their steps —twigs snapping under the soles of their boots— and the sound of a heartbeat began to register in her mind.

She turned to Cassian. “Can you hear those males speaking?”

He frowned, tilting his head. “I don’t pick up anything.” He blinked at her, eyes contemplative. “Can you?”

Elain nodded. It was her hearing then, it was sharpening like it did almost every night. Those males must be on the other side of the camp if Cassian could not hear them. Other soft noises began to become clear for her —snoring, pacing, tossing and turning.

The heartbeat.

Her own heart responded to that one heartbeat.

She focused on that, trying to remember Nuala and Cerridwen’s instructions on how to concentrate on a sound and fade the others into the background. It was difficult and Elain hadn’t practiced much, since she had those ear plugs to block out noice back at the river house.

Movement caught her eye, and Elain saw a shadow approach them.

Follow, it whispered.

And Elain meant to do so as her surroundings went black.

***

Azriel had been left chained to the roof of the tent, a sturdy pole holding the structure to ensure he couldn’t collapse the whole thing.

Except, he couldn’t even try. Whatever hold of Azriel Koschei had seized remained. He could not move, could not speak. The only thing he could do was breathe and blink. He felt as useless as he had when he had been locked in that gods forsaken cell.

He wasn’t alone here either. His shadows had been left with him, but he had noticed how some had vanished. Azriel could not tell whether they were doing it out of their own free will or if Koschei was commanding them through his control over Azriel.

If the shadows were leaving out of their own free will, what did that mean? Azriel had seen them do things without his approval lately. They would follow Elain, or bring her flowers, or guard her door. They had begun acting without directions. But did that mean that they’d abandon him now at last?

Azriel pushed the worry away.

***

“Is this where they are keeping Azriel?” Cassian asked as he followed after Elain. His wings shifted, as if it were difficult to hold back the urge to burst into the sky and take a better look at the camp. But the sound of wings flapping would give them away.

They both followed the instructions the shadows gave her. Sometimes they commanded them to stop, telling Elain a soldier was turning a corner, and sometimes they changed directions entirely to avoid colliding with anyone. Elain listened to them and did as was told, the shadows blocking out the sounds of their steps, even though Elain applied every lesson by Azriel and her friends to her every move.

“Not exactly,” she answered Cassian as they neared a big white tent. Elain could hear Azriel’s heart beating a steady rhythm, but it was fading behind her instead of getting louder. She hoped she was not making a mistake in trusting her instinct and the vision she had just seen.

A box of black stone. She had seen that before. This time, she had seen where it was.

This tent.

Two males stood guarding the entry and the shadows stopped Elain and Cassian some feet away, hidden behind another smaller tent —snores coming from within.

“What do you mean not exactly?”

Elain ignored the slight angry tone with which Cassian spoke. “I just need to get something first.” He grumbled and she turned around. “Just— Trust me. Please.”

Cassian’s eyes softened and he nodded, but Elain saw his hesitancy. She understood. She also wondered whether she was losing precious time.

***

Azriel kept pushing against the leash that controlled him. Slamming his hands against the wall that now held him captive in his own mind. But it was powerful, ancient magic and he could not break free. He wasn’t sure if even Rhysand’s powers could find a way around this mind control. Could Helion break this wall?

His shadows slithered around the ground, but none lifted up to his ear, none spoke to him. Where they quiet because of Koschei or in spite of Koschei? Azriel didn’t want to find out if Koschei could hear everything Azriel listened to. If the shadows revealed anything about his family’s knowledge...

He was losing his mind in this silence. The only thing that surrounded him was darkness with the exception of the thin line of light that came in through the tiny gap between flaps of the tent.

It was like being back in his cell, except worse.

He didn’t know where Elain was or if she was safe.

Had Koschei ordered more of his lackeys to go back for her? To apprehend her and his family, his friends?

My boss knows who you are. And now, he knows what makes you weak, too.

Azriel had done this, it had been his fault, because he could not control his emotions, he could not see Elain was playing a part. He had showed his hand, he had revealed their plan. He deserved to be held captive. He deserved to be abused this way, because it had been his—

The tent’s flap opened and a shadow gazed into the room before leaving again.

Strange. But not strange at all. Koschei was using his shadows then, spying on Azriel through his own shadows. Using them for whatever reason.

The ones that were still in the tent filtered out after the one that visited and Azriel’s heart began to thunder against his chest. Now he was truly alone. Alone in this darkness. And Elain?

He had been taken away from the light once more.

The flap moved again and Azriel prepared to meet koschei. To suffer whatever torture he would implement to Azriel by making him do his bidding.

But the scent that hit him was known to him, familiar and lovely and it woke up his most visceral impulses. To protect, to guard, to touch, to kiss, to—

Elain hurried over to him, a sob coming out of her mouth. A pair of wings with a talon at their apexes almost cut the tent’s material overhead, and Cassian cursed under his breath, his eyes shining with relief.

Something in him lit up with curiosity, watching.

Azriel’s heart was a drum as Elain lifted her hands to his face, her thumb brushing his cheek.

“Azriel.” Her voice was a melody in his ear, a caress against that wall around his mind.

Azriel felt a tear slip down his cheek as he took in her beautiful face, her warm brown eyes, glowing with tears of her own. Her lips twisted up slightly.

Her gaze dropped to his torso, exactly where he had been stabbed. She frowned as she touched the fixed skin, but her shoulders relaxed. She met his eyes again.

“Are you hurt?” She removed the gag from his mouth, but he could not move. Could not speak the words that were in his heart.

You came for me.

But she saw it in his eyes and she dipped her chin in a small nod. Cassian stared as she lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed Azriel’s lips, with enough pressure to reassure herself and him that they were both here, that it was real.

His light had come for him.

But he couldn’t kiss her back.

Cassian cleared his throat, his expression full of confusion and shock. “We should hurry.” Red flared from his Siphons.

Elain stepped away and began inspecting his chains. Azriel was trying his best to break free from Koschei’s hold on him, but he could not move. Cassian noticed.

“Shit,” Cassian said, approaching Azriel and waving a hand before his eyes. “Koschei has a hold on him.”

Elain stepped before Azriel again, cupping his face. “Azriel, can you hear me?” He beat and beat against the wall, roaring her name over and over, but he could do nothing but watch her as her shoulders stiffened in anger. She went back to working on the chains. “We’re going to get you out of here, Azriel. Don’t worry.”

Cassian shook his head, pain distorting his face. “If we take him like this, he’ll stay this way.”

Elain whirled on him. “I am not leaving him here!”

“Of course not,” Cassian said fiercely. “But we have to find a way to break Koschei’s control over him.”

Shadows burst into the tent, every one of them twirling with a sense of urgency. Azriel heard their warning just as Koschei stepped into the tent, a cruel smile on his face.

“How do you plan to do that?”

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 12

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 12

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2369

Summary: Finally starting to talk about the dreams encourages Sam to start trusting himself. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           In an ideal world, you would’ve been patient enough to let Sam bring it up next. But adding the layer of possibility of seeing Dean, really Dean, again, opening some channel to talk to him in your dreams, was sending you into a spiral that ironically was preventing you from sleeping.

           You lasted a few weeks before waking up on a morning of early spring melt and waiting for Sam at the breakfast bar with your now-prized notebook. He came out of the bedroom as you were cutting a grapefruit for him and you passed over a cup of coffee.

           “You seem, uh, chipper.” He was still blinking slowly like he always did for the first few minutes after waking up, fingers wrapping nearly all the way around the ceramic and bypassing the handle.

           Waiting until he sat down on one of the stools and smiling at how short it looked compared to his legs, you put a bowl of yogurt and granola in front of him next to the fruit. Cheap bribery, but you were willing to try anything you had. “I’m hoping maybe we can, um, try to figure this out. I thought if we could make kind of a timeline then maybe we could—” you stammered, having run through this script in your head and still feeling your heart ram against your ribs as you watched for Sam’s reaction. He set the mug down and rubbed his face before resting his head in his hands.

           “Okay.”

           “Okay?”

           “I mean, yeah. I’ve been—I don’t know, I’ve just—”

           “Sam, you don’t have to explain anything.”

           His mouth tightened into a firm line and you could see his jaw flex before he picked up a spoon and started stirring the granola into his yogurt. “Where do you want to start?”

           You’d had a small variety of dreams where Dean narrowly avoided death, but you and Sam decided the best place to start would be the dreams that were explicitly good. That left:

           Sam hadn’t immediately offered what his dreams with Dean were about, and when you sensed that moment of hesitation you didn’t push. That privacy was the least you could give him, already feeling guilty at prying into his thoughts as much as you were.

           “Well, what about those days? Did anything different happen on the days you had those dreams?” you asked, trying to change tack.

           He raised his eyebrows and considered it for a minute. “The first time was obviously the, uh, the cupcakes.”

           Remembering it made you smile a little to yourself and you wrote it down in the notebook. “And the next?”

           “Uh, that Thursday.”

           “Right, but what happened that day?”

           Sam bit the inside of his lip. “Nothing, really.”

           “Okay, well work sucked, that’s for sure. Maybe that was it, that you were more tired? Remember I fell asleep on the couch while you were in the shower?”

           “If you weren’t covered in grenadine I would’ve left you there.”

           “Can you imagine how sticky and gross I would’ve been in the morning? So work was shitty, I fell asleep on the couch, what else—”

           “You folded my laundry for me.”

           “What?”

           He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “You, uh, you folded my laundry for me.”

           “I always fold laundry.”

           “No—not the laundry, my laundry.  I forgot a bunch of my stuff in the dryer and you folded it while I was in the shower.”

           “I really doubt me folding th—”

           “We talked about it in the dream, it was the laundry.” Before you could pry, he took a big gulp of coffee. “So where does that put us?”

           “Wait, I’m still on the laundry.”

           “It was…I don’t know, it was just really nice. It felt like a really nice, normal thing. And it’s not—I mean, who cares, it was just laundry, about the lowest stakes favor there’s ever been in our lives, but it kind of hit me how far we’d come and it made me realize I’d fold your laundry too, you know? The big stuff we’ve already proven, right? But it’s little stuff like folding the laundry, that day-in, day-out, I’m-thinking-about-you—”

           “Gummy worms,” you murmured.

           “What?”

           “I feel like that when you buy me gummy worms. Maybe you’re just doing that because Dean did or whatever, but there’s something about those extra things that add up. I get it.”

           “I—yeah.” Sam gulped.

           You started writing.

           Spinning the notebook back toward him, you let Sam read and didn’t say anything for a long minute past when he was sure to have finished, even getting up to refill your coffee cups while he thought. You came back to the counter and wrapped your fingers around the warm mug, unwilling to be the first one to speak.

           Sam’s jaw tightened around nothing and he nodded slightly without looking up, vision trained on a blank spot of counter next to his bowl. When he finally tilted and met your eyes, his were so big and shiny, so Precious Moments that you almost would’ve laughed, almost would’ve smacked his shoulder and told him to stop manipulating you with those Victim’s Family Puppy Dog Eyes. But they were genuine and unmoving, electric with emotion in the morning light. You traced the angle of his jaw and slipped a fallen piece of hair behind his ear before steadying your palm on the back of his neck, hair warming your fingertips as you met his eyes, leaning an inch or two closer to Sam’s face and then he glanced down at your lips. He didn’t move at all as you slowly, carefully closed the distance between you until at the last second Sam wrapped his fingers around your wrist where it grazed his throat and turned into it, pressing his lips to the now-thrumming pulse there for an extended beat.

           He opened and closed his mouth to try to explain, but you kissed his forehead in apology before he could say anything.

           “I, um—thank you for going over these with me,” you whispered into his hairline, feeling his nod against you.  You broke away from him, taking his empty bowl to the sink for an excuse to do something with your hands. “I need new scrapers to take off the popcorn ceiling, is there anything else I should get at the hardware store?” You knew it would be hard to hear you over the running water to wash the dish, but you couldn’t risk your voice cracking if you spoke louder.

           Mercifully, he didn’t push. “Nothing I can think of, no.”

           You left a few minutes later while Sam was in the shower, careening way too fast around the curves in the rural highways just to feel the weight of the Impala strain to stay on track. There were so many things coming together, so many sweet and comfortable aspects to your life, but it was so frustrating to have the two you wanted most to be just barely out of reach; the ability to be truly happy with Sam or to see Dean in your dreams both obfuscated by the self-flagellating remnants of Sam’s unimaginable torture.

           And yet, impossible for you to be angry with Sam at all; it was yet another in a long stream of ways his life had been torn to shreds by external forces, yet another reminder of how unimaginably resilient he was to be standing at all. Screaming at the complete unfairness of it like a moody teenager in the privacy afforded by the car and the trees, you only had to wipe a few tears away in the parking lot before going into the hardware store.

           Diane was working and had some helpful tips for dealing with the ceilings, as well as a picture of her new grandchild to show you before you headed back to the cabin. You had to bump the front door open with your hip because of the heavy paper bag of supplies, and when Sam heard you he walked over from the couch with a few long strides, taking it out of your hands. His hair was still wet, dripping an uneven collar around his shirt.

           “Is this—uh, did you—do you only want this so we can see Dean again?”

           You weren’t expecting to get into it again, at least not right away, and had to take a deep breath to soothe your surprise at Sam’s nervous energy. He set the bag down a little roughly on the kitchen counter as you followed him inside.

            “Sam, of course not, Jesus. I mean, but I—but yeah, I want to see him again, don’t you?”

            “Of course I do.” He winced, pained even at the suggestion otherwise.

           “I’m sorry I misread the moment earlier. I’m—I, I love you Sam; those days were the only real happy ones I’ve had since Dean died, and if being together means we get to—” and you were cut off by Sam’s hands cupping your face as he kissed you, firm and urgent with tight closed lips like he was trying to seal himself to your skin.

           It was over as soon as it started, Sam holding your head as he pulled his own away and searching your eyes. “If it isn’t rea—” he stopped short, screwed his face together before continuing, consciously unclenched his jaw and smoothed the furrows of his eyebrows. “If we’re doing this, it has to be about us. I can’t—I just can’t build everything on some dreams.”

           You nodded, stunned.

           Sam kept looking between your eyes furiously like he was trying to communicate something you weren’t getting. You tried desperately to race through what it could be and came up short, your brain melting and swirling together inside your skull. It was impossible for you to tell whether he’d found what he wanted or not, but after a few brief seconds of shifting his center of gravity like he was getting ready to either be socked or start a sprint, his face tightened in frustration and he touched his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I’m—I’m not ready,” he growled, more to himself than anything as he shut his eyes hard. You waited for an explanation, your breath gone shallow and your cheeks fiery-hot under Sam’s hands.

           He brushed along your cheekbone with a callused thumb and lifted your chin with featherweight pressure, your lips not a half inch apart from each other. You inhaled the citrus off his breath and held perfectly still until Sam finally kissed you again. It was softer than moments before but just as serious, the emotional weight of his lips so much more than the tender movement of them against yours. As kisses went, it was one of the most innocent you’d had—even more than your first kiss ever, middle school boy you’d thought was cute at the roller rink whose braces had caught on your lips—but if this was what Sam could handle it was enough for you, would have to be enough for you. You kissed back only as his mirror and broke away when he did feeling dizzy with complicated restraint.

           “I’m almost there, I’m so sorry, I’m almost there,” he murmured, straight into the inches between you so you could let them soak in. “Please, I’m so sorry, I just—if it’s not real I can’t—”

           You wrapped your hands around his where they held your head. “I know. I know, Sam, I know.”

           Later you wouldn’t remember how you’d moved on to the rest of the day, rhythmically scraping popcorn texture off of drywall while listening to Bikini Kill. But it was a hug and a few tears in a chain of thousands between you, and that was part of it. Like Sam had said, those moments that meant so little on their own and added up over time. You both worked on different chunks of the ceiling and got through a good amount of it. The difference was remarkable, making the cabin look so much cleaner and more modern. After your shoulders got too sore to keep going, Sam threw together a bastardized puttanesca and you both tried really hard to lighten the mood over dinner, ending the evening feeling pretty close to normal.

           When you climbed into bed, Sam leaned over so that his hair fell in a curtain around your face. The closeness took your breath away, and you cursed your body for betraying you like this, unable to focus for the scent of familiar warmth coming off of him and hypnotic color shift of his eyes. For a fleeting second of panic you wondered if he would ever feel protective and safe again or if these shocks of heat—spurred on by what, two chaste kisses?—were all you’d ever feel around Sam again, if you’d be able to sleep knowing how close to tipping over that boundary you were.

           You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was going to apologize and stopped him by resting a finger on his mouth as he opened it to speak. He smiled against your hand, gentle and a little sad, before touching his lips to yours for the third time that day. It felt like some kind of healing burn; a cauterizing iron splitting you in half and reassuring you that scattered into pieces was the way you were supposed to be; giving you permission to crumble into dust, let yourself be swept away trusting that there was a plan for the place that every grain of yourself would land. There was no way to know precisely Sam’s intention, but if it was to send your mind unspooling like a cheap yo-yo about what that fourth, fifth, sixth kiss might feel like, he had succeeded.

           “Thank you,” he whispered, holding your gaze for a moment before turning off the light and fitting himself like a puzzle piece along the curve of your back.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 13

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[kaitwrites]

Part 22; Apologies

Word Count: ~3k

Masterlist 

A/N: Okay, it’s finally here. First of all I’d like to say I’m very nervous lol. But also, a HUGE thank you to @garbagepale-kid​ for editing and proof-reading for me. Best Wife Cassie <3. Secondly, she has given me so much confidence in my writing and I love her so much for that. Once again, Cassie Best wife. Also you can follow her (18+) writing blog here. In other news I just finished my last 55 hour week at work, and I only have four more days of work before a week of vacation! Anyway, the next part will be written as well, and I hope you guys enjoy <3

You stared at your phone, watching anxiously as the minutes ticked by. After making it back to the hotel you made a beeline for the little gazebo off to the side of the property. With the late hour and it also being a weekday, you were left waiting alone in the dark, unbothered as you sat on the weathered bench. The only light  came from the dim bulb that seemed to hang only by a thread from the tented ceiling. Bakugo had said he wanted to take a shower before meeting with you, but the longer you waited, the more you feared you’d been stood up. 

Finally, you spotted a familiar spiky-haired shadow coming from around the corner and your heartbeat spiked in your chest. 

You let out a shaky breath as he approached, relieved that he had finally shown up. “Hi.” 

He offered you a rare smile, one it seemed only you got to see. “Hey.” He had stopped at the steps, not making a move to come any closer - almost unsure what to do with himself. “So…” 

“So?” You questioned, your voice coming out far more confident than you thought it would. 

Bakugo huffed and made his way up the few steps, sliding onto the bench beside you. The old wood creaked under your combined weight. He sat facing forward, choosing to stare out into the darkness. “So, you and Sero?” There was a bite to his tone. 

Your eyes narrowed. “What about me and Sero?” You quipped back, your tone just as harsh. 

You observed him carefully as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, bracing yourself for an onslaught of the usual insults you heard thrown at your friends. “What are you two?” 

You were taken aback by how soft his voice was when he asked, and it took you a moment to compose yourself once more before answering him. “What does it matter to you what goes on between me and Sero?” 

“Because, damn it!” He let out a hefty sigh, knotting his hands into his hair.  “I thought we had something.” He hissed out through clenched teeth. 

You turned away in disbelief, unsure of how to react. He planned this whole thing, the song, the apology, in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people, but he wanted to get upset with you? Act like you had been the one in the wrong this entire time? Sure what you and Hanta had was artificial, but did he really expect you to wait around while he tried to figure out how to communicate with you? It wasn’t like you two had been anything official, so what was the big deal if you had started seeing someone? The questions mounted and mixed poorly with a nearly-venomous sense of indignation, erasing any of the calm you’d been maintaining.

You threw your hands up in exasperation, ignoring the way he flinched away from the unexpected sudden movement. “You know what? I thought we did too. But then you kicked me out of your hotel room, wouldn’t tell me why! You ignored me for weeks, Bakugo! I think I deserve an explanation!” 

“Fuck! I know!” He shouted, making you jump. He noticed it from the corner of his eye and took a deep breath before he spoke again, this time a little calmer.

“I knew your phone had died so I plugged it in for you. Figured I’d save you the hassle in the morning. It started going off like crazy once it turned back on and I assumed it was those idiots blowing up your phone. He slumped his shoulders, leaning back against the bench. “I was going to tell them to shut the hell up and leave you alone so you could sleep, but the messages were from some guy acting like your boyfriend or something - I got angry.” 

You fisted your hands in the hem of your shirt, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the thin material. “No shit! Why didn’t you talk to me?” 

His gaze shifted to the floor, unable to look in your direction after hearing the hurt and anger in your voice. “I wanted to! I knew I had upset you and I figured you’d be over it in a few days. But when Kirishima told me just how upset you were I just- I couldn’t. I’m just some asshole, and you deserve better than that. I couldn’t talk to you.” 

You glared at his profile, lips pressed into a thin line, waiting for him to face you and continue. The silence stretched on for several moments, so you cut in. “You could have texted me, called me, wrote me a note, sent me a fucking email for god’s sake! But instead, I was left sitting alone agonizing over what in the hell I could have done that made you so mad at me!” 

“I realized I fucked up. No matter how much I wanted to talk to you I know I’d just fuck it up and hurt you all over again.” He finally turned his gaze to you, features softening once he saw the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He ventured again, barely audible “But now I realize that not talking to you hurt you more than anything I could have done.” 

You aggressively wiped at your eyes as the tears escaped, realizing you were more frustrated by the burst of tears than you were angry with Bakugo.

“You had become such a constant in my day to day life, and just like that, the familiarity was gone. You were gone. You wouldn’t even look at me. I was literally packing my bags a week and a half ago because being around you was not only uncomfortable, but it hurt.” 

Bakugo shifted on the bench beside you, uncomfortable from the sudden burst of tears. He wasn’t good with his own emotions, let alone someone else's. A slew of curses ran through his brain as he tried to gather the right words to say to try to make you feel better. A stab of guilt shot through his heart watching your shoulders shake as you tried to hide your face from him. Damn, he thought, this is all my fault. He slid off the bench with an exasperated sigh, kneeling in front of you and tilting your face to meet his eyes. “Damn it, stop crying dumbass.” His hand slid up to your cheek, wiping the tears that continued to trail down your face. “Especially over some asshole.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re the asshole I’m crying over.” You spat, pushing his hands away. 

“Listen. I’m not good at shit like this, alright?” His voice no longer held the softness it had just moments prior. You went to speak but he cut you off abruptly. “Just- let me talk, okay?” You nodded, letting him say his piece. 

He took a deep breath, eyes pointed at the ground. “I fucked up. I know I did, alright? I’m not- I don’t know how to do stuff like this, I never cared how anyone felt before you came along. To be honest, I regretted kicking you out as soon as I did it, hearing the pain in your voice then- Even now, it’s still… I don’t even know how to describe it. But, fuck. I'm just trying to say sorry, alright?” 

“It’s called guilt.” You sniffled, bumping your leg against his. 

He moved back beside you on the bench, and after a moment of hesitation he pulled your legs into his lap. Your heart fluttered at the sudden movement, and you were tempted to remove your legs from his light grip, but it felt right. You sighed and let yourself relax into him and he wrapped his free arm around you as you let your head rest on his shoulder. I’m so tired of being mad at him. You thought, I want this moment with him, I don’t want to fight against it. I’ve missed him so much. 

His hand came up, stroking your hair with a tenderness that surprised you, and you melted into his touch. “I know what it’s called, Dumbass.” 

You closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his body wash. It smelled like the forest after it had just rained, and reminded you of all of the nights you had fallen asleep in his room while you worked on videos or watched movies together. How you would wake up snuggled up to his firm chest and he would complain that you took up all the room on the bed so he had no choice but to be so close to you. You smiled fondly at the memory and felt a few more tears fall from your eyes. 

His hand rested on your knee and gently squeezed. “I thought I told you to stop crying over some asshole.” He slowly brought his hand up to wipe at your tears, assuming you would push him away once more. The weight of his hand disappeared from your head, drifting down to wipe your tears even though he was sure you’d try to push him away again. To his surprise, you let him.

You pressed your cheek into his calloused hand letting out a shaky sigh when it lingered a little longer than necessary. You looked up at him through wet eyelashes.

“Say it again.” You mumbled. 

He pulled his hand back, confused. “Don’t cry over an asshole? I think twice is enough, you really need to hear it a third time?”

“No, you idiot.” You sighed, pushing his shoulder. “You know what I mean.” 

He smirked and placed his hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

This time it wasn’t surrounded by a jumbled mess of an explanation, it wasn’t a quick, quiet apology like he had done prior. It felt genuine. It was genuine. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, and you could feel the tears burning in your eyes again, but you pushed them back and let a shaky breath escape your lips. 

“I forgive you, but it’s not okay. Learn how to talk to people.” You flicked him on the forehead and he grabbed your wrist, returning the motion to your forehead. “Hey!” 

“I’m working on it, woman.” He let go of your wrist but slid your hand into his, gently squeezing it before dropping it completely. “Shitty Hair already told me about you and Sero, but I want to hear it from you.” 

“Damn it, Kirishima!” You threw your head back, covering your face with your hands. You had asked him not to say anything to Bakugo about it, scared that it would just anger the blonde and make him never want to speak to you again, and you were aggravated that your best friend had decided to tell Bakugo instead of just letting things take their course. But suddenly, what Kirishima told you had made sense. You two are going to be the death of me. At first, you thought he meant you and Sero, but the more you thought about it, he was talking about you and Bakugo. Mina said that Kirishima had been working with Bakugo for a while, and he was probably just trying to get a handle on the situation, tired of having to go back and forth especially if it was going to be all for nothing. Kirishima never should have been caught up in the middle of the mess between the two of you, Bakugo could have talked to you, and you could have just gotten over it and made him talk to you in person, even when he was ignoring all of your messages. 

 You narrowed your eyes once more, crossing your arms over your chest.“You drove Kirishima just as crazy as I did, didn’t you?” 

He mimicked you, quirking a brow as he crossed his arms over his own chest. “You have no proof.”

“Stop copying me, liar. I can’t believe I’m attracted to a liar.” You reached out to pry his arms from his chest, but he turned it around on you, grabbing yours and pulling you so close so you could feel his breath on your face. 

 “So you’re attracted to me?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down to your lips, then quickly darted back up to your eyes, a smirk forming on his own lips

“I never denied it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he moved his hand up your arm. “You would have known forever ago if you hadn’t been so mean to me.” 

His crimson eyes made their way back down to your lips once more, and you shivered under his gaze. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you, observing your features carefully as he drew closer. He slowly closed his eyes, but you put a hand to his chest and stopped him. He eased back, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering open and breath heavy as if he had been holding it this whole time.

“What now, dumbass?” He was annoyed, but his voice wasn’t as gruff as it usually was. 

“I need to talk to Sero.” 

“Oh? Need to fake break up with your fake boyfriend?” He chuckled, hands trailing up and down your arms. “Come on, Y/N.” 

“Well, It’s a little more complicated than that.” You bit your lip and looked down, nervous to tell him about what had happened earlier in the night, anxiety eating at your nerves over the events of the evening.

He rolled his eyes as he waited for you to continue. “Spit it out, Y/N.”  

Sero had been there for you for this entire ordeal, hell even before Bakugo came into the picture, he was one you could always come to and he would welcome you with open arms, dropping whatever he was doing for you. And what if that kiss had meant something to him? Obviously, you were taken back by it at first and you weren’t sure how to feel, but he knew that all of this was for Bakugo, and since this - or at least something - was happening between you and Bakugo, he deserved to know what happened. 

“He kissed me earlier before you guys went on stage. He came down to get some drinks and we ran into each other at the bar. I just wanted to tell you because I didn’t want you finding out later and getting upset with me again.” 

“Mother fucker.” He pulled back and his hands tightened on your arms for a minute before he let go. You saw anger flash in his eyes, and you were preparing yourself for an outburst. “I was supposed to be the first one in this damn band of idiots to kiss you.” He was trying to keep a light tone with the joke, but you could tell he was struggling to keep his cool. 

“Hate to break it to you, he wasn’t the first to kiss me either.” You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, always shocked at how soft his seemingly prickly hair was. 

“Shouldn’t be surprised you kissed that red-haired idiot.” He leaned his head back into your hand as you scratched his scalp, side-eyeing you as you giggled. 

“Wrong again! Jirou and I made out once or twice, no big deal.” You smiled as his mouth fell open in shock. “Actually, the only person I haven’t kissed is Kirishima. Well, and you.” His hands made their way down to your hips and he pinched you at your remark. 

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised. You two did seem close.” Soft circles were rubbed into your sides before a look of realization came across his face. “Wait, even that purple-haired bastard?” 

“Only once during spin the bottle when we were in high school.” You giggled, watching a pout form on his lips. “Aw, what’s the matter, Katsuki?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, “you jealous-“ He grabbed your hand, cutting you off and pulling you completely onto his lap, his lips just a few mere inches from yours. 

“What were you saying?” He whispered, his lips just barely ghosting against yours, eyes half shut, staring up at you. Goosebumps ran up your spine as he ran his hands up your sides. “Not so talkative now are we?” 

You inhaled sharply and placed your hands on either side of his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “I missed you.” 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” He squeezed your sides and kissed your jaw, leaving tingles where his lips had met your skin. You visibly shivered and sighed, leaning more into him, allowing him to continue the light trail of kisses along your jaw. “Come back to my room.” He whispered. 

You nodded, opening your eyes and peering down at him. “After I talk to Sero.” His grip tightened at the sound of his name and you didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up in disapproval, but he lazily let his hands fall from your sides. “It won’t take long,” you promised, slowly making your way off his lap already, missing the presence of his hands on your sides. 

You had barely made it two steps away from him before you felt his hand at your wrist, pulling you back and twisting you around to face him once more. “You really thought I’d let you go that easily?” His free hand landed on your cheek, making its way to the back of your head and pulling you closer to him, his lips finally meeting yours. 

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[uwua3]

Yo! Can i ask for a cute Pirate AU with an adventure seeking MC pirate captain, who, when she and her crew are making a stop at some port, meets her childhood friend, Tenma, with whom she has romantic tension, only Tenma is a big blushing tsundere mess, and MC is verrrryyy oblivious to his blushiness, but accidentally innocently flirts with him?? If that makes sense? Also oops the soldiers have seen me, the wanted pirate, wanna get out of here and join my crew?

summary: a deal is made between a pirate captain haunted by their legacy and an island medium who wants to go home

warnings: alcohol, death (mentions), cops/police, crime, fights (physical/arguments), fires, ghosts, military, near–death experiences, pirates, slow-burn, swords, unrequited love/love triangle

author’s note: thank you so much for your patience requesting this pirate story~ i did my best to do this justice, as i love pirates more than anything! .*:ﾟ（｀・ω・´）ゝﾟ:*. this was a jolly good time to write, thank you! (please let me know if you would like a part 02 to this, as it ran longer than expected)! thank you!! :D

word count: 6,163

music: ship in a bottle – fin

captain, let’s make a deal.

☀️🌻 sumeragi tenma

even out at sea, you couldn’t escape the fire that destroyed your town years ago. the fire that made you become a pirate captain

you were born by a local village by the coast, where the air tasted like salt no matter what and trade was your community’s main economy

it was home. a place where everyone knew each other as family, where the sun was hot upon even warmer smiles and the euphoric laughter of children surrounded the island. this was the land of the happy, the free, and the united

it wasn’t until the damn navy—your first enemy until death—came

according to heresay, pirates were supposed to plunder and pillage without mercy. pirates were the villain and yet, what would the navy be then? after what they did to you, they were anything but heroes

yonaguni was made of tall palm trees that provided shade during the eternal summer that sunburnt your skin, floating markets by the pier with tricky elderly and learning apprentinces in the family business, and rare wildlife not found anywhere else

now, it was nothing more than hell. you could remember it all—how the flames licked the open wounds from navy seamen, the screams of the innocent replacing what would’ve been last words meant for decades later, the sound of crashing trees blocking every available escape route as birds flew away in the distance

you were just a yonaguni native, and now, there was nothing left of your hometown. it was permanently erased from world history forever, and you were the sole survivor of the island, making you the most wanted vigilante alive

it had been years since you last had a nightmare of the attack. was haunting your brain and traumautizing you for life during every waking hour not enough?

but, you knew the answer why you couldn’t stop mourning the loss of yonaguni

it was nearing the anniversary of your friend, sumeragi tenma’s, death

and, as you climbed to the crow’s nest with the power of the ocean running through your salted veins and spite overwhelming you in the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, you could see it over the horizon

the navy said dead men tell no tales, but you were alive, and you would be a legend

“all hands ahoy or you’ll be given no quarter!” (everyone on deck or you’ll be shown no mercy)

“aye, captain!” your crew replied eagerly, their loyalty unwavering and strong as always. you stood atop of the main mast, surrounded by vast ocean bordering a blue, cloudless sky. even without your telescope, you could see everything in the world

beneath you sounded the swing of the lines (rope) against the wind before two feet landed in the crow’s nest. the sailor had the type of agility that only came from a boy born on sea

“cap, don’t tell me ya forgot about me?” your quartermaster, rurikawa yuki, grinned (a rare sight that only came when the ocean smelt strongest of salt and treasure), standing at the ledge whilst holding onto the lines with one hand. any other novice would’ve immediately fallen off with how strong the random gusts of wind were, but yuki was an enigma and your second in command for a reason

“ahoy, yuki! so long as the jolly rodger waves, this crew will always be ready to set sail.” you responded, sliding down the mast to be in the crow’s nest as well. yuki just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning upon your frame like it was nothing

“don’t hornswaggle (cheat) me, cap. what are you thinking about?” yuki read you like a map, as expected of the second best cartographer (after master boatswain muku, of course) in all the seven seas. you tried to remain present in the moment, with the wind flowing and sky clear, but it wasn’t enough

“... tell me, yuki. is it so easy to read the distraught upon my face?” you joked, but it fell flat as yuki raised an unimpressed eyebrow at your facade. yuki didn’t take bullshit from anyone, not even his own captain

“aye, do not be acting as if you’re feeding the fish (about to die), captain.” yuki carefully watched if any of their small crew was eavesdropping, but the rest were doing their proper tasks for the morning. cartographer muku was happily reading directions to helmsman misumi. the two were a fantastic pair, considering the “sky” ship hasn’t sunken

surgeon kazunari was dutifully sanitizing his medical tools besides them, taking some time to laugh loudly at some story misumi was dramatically reenacting as he spun the wheel skillfully

“boom about!” yuki called out without looking away, already feeling it in his bones moments before anyone else could. his intuition was unheard of, and you watched no one hesitate as they ducked just in time

“sorry~!” misumi responded without any apologetic tone to his voice whatsoever. his sailor’s grin was infectious and wide, a smile only those accustomed to the fatal winds and waves of the ocean could make. just like everyone else on the “sky” ship, they all were forged by the sea

“smartly make way to land before i toss you off myself!” yuki snapped, but it held no malice. he rolled his eyes unimpressed when kazunari laughed at misumi’s sarcastic salute, knowing pirates did no such navy thing without mockery

“oh, dear yuki, how could i drown with you by my side?” you reached over to ruffle his hair, the precarious creak of the wooden mast the last thing on your mind as yuki swatted at your hand, irritated by the littlest of things as always

“you’re right, i’ll have your head first anyways.” yuki said with no malice, giving you a small frown as his calculating eyes glanced over you once more, trying to find any cracks in your confident visage. when he found nothing, he climbed back down, seemingly unsatisfied when you didn’t break under his stare

(you were one of the few on the crew who didn’t flinch. the other was misumi, who just had no fear towards anything, so it wasn’t personal. after all, misumi was the finest swashbuckler around!)

ahead, your acute sight narrowed in on the growing formation in the distance, your gut tensing before realizing it was far too large to be another ship

with a grin, you hanged over the edge (a habit that no longer scares your crew), your voice amplified as it was carried downward by the wind. it was to be expected, of course, as a yonaguni native, your town always had a special connection to nature that no one else did

“my men, turn your heads and look forward into the horizon! what do you see?”

“land, captain!”

“then let us sail faster! the sooner we reach the shores, the quicker you all can take a damn shower!”

with a shared lighthearted laugh, everyone focused on their role and position towards the land mass ahead. whether it was the possibility of smelling like something else other than a siren’s cove or something more, you smiled, forgetting about last night’s sleepless disturbances

up ahead was fukusaki, sky crew’s next location for the night

after three months or so on sea, your crew’s resources were dwindling (much faster since everyone had a bottomless appetite). it was time to visit a port town to stock up and set sail the next sunrise

sure, it was a rushed habit of yours, but it was never good to stay in one place for too long. that came with the risk of losing again...

besides, who liked a crew of pirates to suddenly come to the town square in their stained clothing and gleaming swords?

after barely securing a place to tie down the great beauty known as “sky”, entering fukusaki was like any other town. merchants upon the docks were experts at haggling prices, civilians went by with their day to day life, and the sun burned everyone’s skin just the same

but as you placed your leather boot upon the wooden dock, something inside you turned. like something had suddenly shifted in the town but you had no idea what

yuki seemed to have felt the same thing, even if his facial expression didn’t change. as kazunari kept muku from fighting with a seller for a map of the local area (misumi was unfortunately encouraging him), yuki inched closer to you, his brows furrowed

“you feel that? something isn’t right.” yuki bluntly stated, eyes scanning his surroundings like usual. except he didn’t know what he was looking for, so a frustrated sigh left his lips

“aye, feels as if someone’s running a rig (playing a trick) on us...” you murmured under your breath, careful not to alarm the returning muku with haughtiness ablaze in his eyes and sheepishness from an apologizing but relieved kazunari (it was hard to believe muku used to be shy prior to joining)

“keep a look out. let you know if somethin’s amiss.” yuki peeled away, checking in with muku asking where the closest tavern was. at the mention of alcohol, misumi jumped in, rambling about how he had already talked to a local about all the best spots

you took a moment to take a deep breath in, the scent of palm trees and fruit replacing your usual endless seas. it wasn’t unsettling, just new. your sea legs itched to return to somewhere always changing, always new, but you knew you couldn’t do that to your friends

you straightened your back and walked with the confidence of a true pirate captain, swinging both your arms around kazunari and misumi, peering down at the map with an easy smile

“alright my hearties, where to?”

this gut feeling could wait, you had a few hours to relax before everything turned upside down

of course the captain got the most inconvenient yet boring jobs that could’ve been assigned

(yuki didn’t look sorry as he happily enjoyed your childish huff at being the grocery shopper, knowing how much you hated to interact with people outside of the crew)

due to your very limited people skills, you awkwardly tried to summon your confidence to come back around all the fukusaki shop vendors. when you were with your crew, all eyes were on you and how high your head was held. but, when alone... a captain was nothing without its crew, you supposed

a messily scrawled list by kazunari was in your hand (never ask a doctor to write anything) as you tried to decipher the words, holding it up to the sun to figure out what the hell he wanted

after getting the main idea of what each person wanted within budget, you stood on the outskirts of the town square, desperately trying to decide what was the best way to approach this situation

you couldn’t appear helpless or confused! how were you supposed to haggle in this state of mind?! as you slowly spun around in a circle to view all of the sellers before settling on a rather small, unimpressive stand

maybe that meant cheaper prices! you thought cleverly, walking over with the poise of a seasoned native. with a neutral expression, you reached a wooden display with a certain swagger to your step

however... there was nothing. as you stood in the front of the set-up and realized no one was there, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. what kind of service was this? was there no one actually here to sell anything?

before you could leave, a flash of orange appeared in front of you, purple eyes wide as if surprised they even received a customer. “w-wait!” he called out, nearly falling over his own table. this kid would clearly not make it upon a ship, you thought

for whatever reason, you stopped, looking over your shoulder with an unimpressed expression at the simple boy. he was tall and lean, wearing a bandana around his orange hair and an unbuttoned shirt. it was a casual appearance unfit for a merchant

“what is it? i’ve got places to be and there’s nothing here to be sold.” you stated, a wave of shock passing over his face before solidifying in a stubborn crease in his forehead

“huh? what are you talking about? haven’t you come here to get rid of that?”

when he reached out, you jolted back, a surge of energy visible in your body. you felt that strongly, what the hell did this random merchant do to you?!

“w—calm down! stop moving or i can’t remove the yokai! you’re making this difficult.” he demanded roughly, his proper words clipped from an accent unlike any other on this island. there was a certain... twang, to his vocabulary. as if it didn’t sit right, as if it was on the tip of his tongue

so much for customer service! you didn’t listen, dodging his hand like your life depended on it. as you ducked beneath his arm, you gripped his bicep with a death glare. at your narrowed eyes, the orange-haired boy gulped and stared back with astonishment

clearly, fukusaki natives weren’t this rude

“yokai? what the hell are you blubberin’ about, kid?” you questioned, your patience thin like a century-old rope worn down by salt. he set his lips in a straight line, as if trying to assess if you were serious or not. when you didn’t budge, he yanked his arm back and rubbed the sore spot, giving in

“ghosts. you got more spirits than normal around you, they’ve been there for a long time.”

you were about to retort, but fell silent at the remembrance of yonaguni. had your ancestors been with you all this time? you almost couldn’t believe you’ve been actually haunted by their deaths for this long

“i have no ghosts. do not try to scam me.” you flatly said before turning on your heel, intent on leaving the possibility of ghosts behind before tenma took a hold on your arm this time

“but, they’re trying to tell you—”

before tenma could finish, an irritated and offended voice boomed just down the cobblestone pathway

“you dare lay your hand on our captain?!”

“yuki, wait!” the crew clambered after him, hands always short of his shirt fabric as yuki’s sword made a sickening sound when pulled out of its sheath. the orange-haired boy let go immediately, attempting to make a run for it before coming face to face with misumi, whose previous smile was cold and nonexistent

it was as if the other merchants disappeared, fearing a start of a fight would be terrible for business. tenma was caught in the middle of a 5-person circle, with yuki pointing the tip of his sword at his throat

“state your name and business for grabbing our captain like that!” yuki was adamant on proving his sword was real by putting it closer to the boy’s adam’s apple. he tried not to shake under the pressure, but you noticed how his feet had no shoes and looked ready to run to anywhere but here

“um... t—johnny. it’s johnny, and i simply belong to a family of fukusaki mediums, that’s all.” johnny(?) said, as if trying to convince himself. all of you secretly exchanged a look, trying to decide whether or not to believe this so-called johnny

“you see ghosts?” yuki scoffed, his position already clear on the issue. ever since you two have met, you knew yuki never believed in anything involving the supernatural. after all, so many mysteries were hidden in the ocean, yuki doubted anything could scare him on land

but, you... you’re starting to believe johnny as you notice his eyes waver towards you. maybe not so much you, but whatever was surrounding you

“yes, sir. i can communicate with them as well. ever since i was a young boy, i’ve brought peace to the dead.” your head snapped towards him at that, something inside of you turning

that boy could bring your ancestors peace? could it be too good to be true? as if hearing your thoughts, johnny nodded to reaffirm your beliefs

before anyone else can join in on the questioning, you held your hand up and everyone fell silent, waiting for your next words. you could easily tell yuki to kill this boy and he would... but you won’t

“how much are your services?”

johnny blinked, clearly not used to this question as he mentally calculated whatever in his head. “uh... i usually don’t get paid.”

“if we took you on your ship, how much then?” (you immediately hushed a protesting yuki and wary crew)

“my payment wouldn’t be money.” johnny quickly said, almost shocking himself with how fast that answer came. you raised an eyebrow at that, about to question his terms before muku turned, eyebrows furrowed

“there’s someone coming.” muku whispered in a hush, immediately on guard as everyone shifted to a defensive position. at the first sound of a boot on ground, kazunari’s eyes widened. a telltale sign of the cop’s traditional uniform, which kazunari knew better than most

“go! go! go!” you ordered, everyone taking off running. without thinking, you took a hold of johnny’s hand. he squeezed it without flinching, turning and impressively staying by your side even as you got faster and faster

you were fast, but you despised running with a passion. if you closed your eyes longer than a blink, you could almost smell the smoke and crack of the tree trunks. for some reason, johnny smelt like coconut, and that humored you to a certain extent as your crew ran for their lives from the officers. someone must’ve alerted local authorities nearby...

even with a map, muku was lost to the island’s complex system. despite being quick on his feet, muku’s eyes frantically analyzed the outdated lines and pressed his lips into a straight line out of frustration. you knew you should’ve stepped in, but what could you have done?

“follow me!” johnny whispered hurriedly, turning into a waypoint before stopping and looking back. your crew subconsciously looked towards you as well, as if asking if this fukasaki native was trustworthy

though, it’s not like you had a choice now

you ran with johnny, the rest of your crew following suit. when you reached a dead end, you expected this to be a mistake before johnny nimbly flung himself up the ivy-covered wall, landing with a hard thud as if he hadn’t done so in a long time. ignoring the pain, johnny extended his hand an impressive height away

“grab my hand and we’ll be free!” pirates weren’t one to say no to freedom (or put all their coins in one chest...), so you got down to provide a boost to your crew mates. it wasn’t a time to be noble, so they all took your support without complaining, easily being able to run past johnny

when it was your turn, the sound of polished boots grew increasingly closer, much to your chagrin. you backed up quietly, gulping and trying not to look behind you as you glanced up. both johnny and yuki were standing there, their hands extended as you got a running start

you closed your eyes, breathed in the imaginary smoke, and leaped, feeling the grip of both their hands upon yours as they helped you up. just as you ducked beneath the foliage, you breathed a sigh of relief as the officers ran by without sparing a second look

when you opened your eyes, you noticed johnny was still holding your hand, his fist tight around yours as you could practically feel his heartbeat through leaning on his shoulder

you got up to thank johnny before noticing yuki’s uncharacteristic quietness and the way his eyes looked between you and johnny... as if he was betrayed

you didn’t think more of it despite the sinking feeling in your stomach

it was a night to celebrate! escaping the cops was no easy feat, especially on a foreign island. your crew, who had taken a liking to johnny’s ability to hold his own, invited him to drinks (not that they needed guidance to the safest tavern, of course...)

you nursed your own drink of choice at a rickety table with the crew, watching as they became less like pirates and more like their own ages with a few drinks and good music. yuki didn’t drink, which was something that had always occurred no matter where they went

johnny was flustered under all the attention, or it was the alcohol everyone insisted he could keep down. you stifled a chuckle when kazunari hooked his arm around tenma��s neck and ruffled his hair, the look upon his face priceless

you took a sip before lowering the cup’s rim, noticing yuki’s wary gaze. he met your eye with a frown, as if hesitating on what to say next. once again, how strange

“captain,” at that, you tried not to outwardly wince. it wasn’t common for yuki to be so... formal with you, at least. “do you truly intend on bringing this stranger with us?”

“johnny is no stranger anymore, yuki. he saved our lives, we are indebted to him.” you flatly said, glancing at johnny once more. yuki huffed, clearly disagreeing with your opinion as he rolled his eyes

“we would’ve been just fine without him. plus, he’s a medium! how do you know he’s the real deal, anyways?”

“i just... know.” you tried to elaborate, but it fell on deaf ears. there were some parts of your past you just couldn’t elaborate on, some parts that wouldn’t make sense to a non-yonaguni native

yuki slammed his water on the wooden table, a sound barely distinguishable in the rowdy atmosphere before getting up with a skid of the stool. he silently left, no doubt heading back to the docks where the stars shined the brightest and moon made things shrouded in dark more visible

you got up and followed without speaking another word. the crew knew disagreements between you & yuki were far and few, so there was no time to ask silly questions

when you reached the outside, the salt in the air and muffled sound of everyone having fun made you stop. behind you, you noticed the door didn’t slam completely as a quick-footed pair of feet made their way besides you

“are... you okay?” johnny asked, his hands in his linen pockets as you exhaled, nodding as you leaned onto the wall. johnny stiffly stood by the door, as if guarding it

“yeah, yeah. i am... just a little tussle, that’s all.” you sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself, but neither of you pointed it out. a few moments of awkward silence passed, before johnny cleared his throat

“okay, i didn’t hear nothin’. just... heard the spirits around you get loud.”

there he went again about the ghosts and spirits! you subconsciously patted your hair down flat, turning to look at johnny with yuki-like skepticism in your narrowed eyes

“how can you see there are ghosts on me? how do i know you’re not pullin’ my leg?” you suspiciously questioned, watching as johnny bristled under the attention. it seemed as if the island natives didn’t question his credibility as a medium

“you know i’m right. you have tens, maybe more, spirits attached to you. i can help you take them away, for a price, of course.”

“which is?”

“i want to find an island lost to me long ago.”

if you blinked, you could’ve sworn you were talking to a past-version of yourself. why did that request seem so familiar?

“do you know its name?”

“nay... my family refuses to tell me anything about where i’m from. all i know is the navy is the reason i lost my parents.”

“mine too.” you admitted with a breath and the conversation paused, you two sharing an understanding expression of sympathy but unshakable faith. you two understood each other despite knowing one another for a few hours

“then, is it settled?” johnny held out his hand, which you took with a firm grip. his palms were soft for an islander, funny enough. he must’ve thought differently since this was one of the few times you took off your leather gloves

“as long as you bring peace to my ancestors, you’re comin’ with me.”

when the hours became late and you ultimately decided everyone passed their limit a long time ago, you and johnny led them all to their barracks with laughs and humor in the air

when you reached the docks, yuki was barely noticeable in the night as he stood upon the mast of the ship, his hair waving in the wind like a flag

he didn’t look at you, not once, so you didn’t climb up. how could you when johnny was holding your hand with his eyes flickering back to you, or whatever was around you?

you introduced johnny to his new quarters and left him to be, feeling free for once in your life that night

morning came with the unfurling of your sails and your position in the crow’s nest. the sky was blue and cloudless, just like everyone predicted as the sea welcomed your crew into its arms

“ahoy, my hearties! off we go to find our next treasure!” you commanded joyously, the crew hurrah-ing in return at your enthusiasm. like most pirates did, your crew’s goal when off-land was to find a ship to rob and make off with their goods

you turned to the side, about to say something before realizing yuki wasn’t next to you. he must’ve slept in, that’s all. you didn’t question it even if he was always on time the years you knew him

disguising your expression of disappointment, you left your crew to their own means, sliding down the mast as per usual. when you landed, you noticed johnny standing awkwardly to the side as everyone was doing their own job

“hey, johnny! what are you muckin’ around for?” you questioned lightheartedly, slamming your freshly-shined boots (after an unfortunate drunk throw-up incident) upon the oak boards. johnny flinched from the sound, unaccustomed to the constantly-busy atmosphere of a large ship

“do you... need any help? i kinda, feel guilty just lazing about in my quarters.” johnny confessed, a red flush against his face as he rubbed the back of his permanently-sunburned neck. you were taken back for a moment, not used to being offered help

“um... you seem to know how to throw a person off their rhythm! i have nothing on mind as of now, hmmm....” after much consideration, you snapped your fingers with a start. “perhaps consider shadowing me for today! get the feel of a captain’s life—”

“no need, captain. i will take him off your hands for you.”

you turned to see yuki besides you, his feet silent and eyes attentive as always. you sensed the tension still imbedded between you two, gulping as you tugged at the collar of your shirt. for some reason, you immediately felt disappointed at the missing opportunity of tenma being with you

why were you feeling this way?! there was no reason to think like that as a busy, efficient pirate captain!

“thank you, yuki. return him in one piece, alright?” you joked, turning away to review what needed to be done that day. as you left, you didn’t notice yuki place a cold grip on johnny’s shoulder with an uncharacteristically eerie stoic pose

johnny looked after you, wondering what was behind that shroud of spirits who wanted nothing more than to see you freed of them

“you’re quite lucky the captain has taken quite a liking to you, johnny, was it?”

yuki & johnny found themselves ending the ship’s tour in the underground of the main deck, located along the cannons placed in their corresponding holes. the smell of gunpowder and flint was nearly suffocating, but yuki moved with ease and seemed to revel in johnny’s tight expression

“y-yes... the captain is very kind and charitable to take me on board.” johnny managed to get out without coughing, his eyes inspecting the materials and wondered how loud it truly was during battle

“you agreed to come so soon. you have no family of your own?” yuki asked innocently, mindlessly fixing the placements of the bombs behind the barrels. johnny shook his head, explaining it wasn’t an emotional attachment he had to fukusaki

“how... suspiciously fortunate.” yuki deadpanned, suddenly whipping around with a blank stare. it caught johnny off guard, who nearly stumbled back into a cannon. yuki wasn’t armed, but his tense demeanor and personality change was jarring

“listen, kid, i’ve got no clue who you are, but you have no reason to be upon this ship.” with every word, yuki seemed to come closer until his pointer finger pushed in the center of johnny’s chest

“you may have fooled everyone else, but our captain has always been too naive. i see right through you, johnny. who are you, really?”

johnny shuddered, backed against the wall and desperately holding onto anything that can keep his wobbly legs up. he didn’t know if it was the rocky seas or yuki’s simmering anger, but he felt like he was staring straight into one of those cannons

“i’m johnny, an island medium who sees ghosts on your captain. it is my duty to let them go, that’s all.”

a moment passed, before yuki took a few steps back. before johnny could react, he found the tip of a real sword pointed at his neck once again

“you’re lying, i know it. do not make me ask you again, who are you?”

johnny tried to remain placid in the face of a weapon, but he gritted his teeth and couldn’t help himself

“why the hell does it matter to you? are you in love with your captain or something?!”

silence, then yuki lowered his sword. he sheathed it back, before turning and leaving without another word. johnny let out a deep breath, sinking to the floor as he closed his eyes

if johnny listened hard enough, he could hear your spirits try to communicate with him. but, their voices were garbled and unlike anything he’s heard before. who were you and why was he here?

the first time you & johnny met in terms of spirits was two weeks after a pattern of sleepless nights

he already found you teetering close to the edge, your hands folded as you searched for something, or someone, past the blackened seas

it was as if some savage sea monster had spilt its ink-like blood into the waters, the once blue surface that reflected lucky skies now murky and as mysterious as the dark side of the moon

with your usual guarded glint now gone, you still seemed just as capable to be the one responsible for such dark seas

“good evening.” johnny mumbled lowly, placing the lantern besides his feet as he made his way next to you. you hummed, not particularly fazed by his sudden appearance despite not paying attention. it’s as if you had eyes in the back of your head, like a sea monster

“i suppose fukusaki isn’t used to the rocking of wooden ships?” you retorted, to which johnny sharply exhaled through his nose, a sign of amusement at your observation

“nay, but... i haven’t been able to properly maintain my sleep schedule ever since boarding. your spirits... are rather loud for ghosts.”

you full-on laughed at this, disturbing the intimate atmosphere between you two. johnny couldn’t help but smile at your worn-down exterior. you presented yourself like you were made of a glass bottle, but you were as intricate as a carved artisan ship

“try living with them your whole life, boy, then you can start complaining about their volume.” you jested lightheartedly, offering a soft smile at the newest recruit. as you leaned back onto the railing of the ship, you watched the constant surface of the waves, as if you could anchor your endless thoughts to davey jone’s locker

johnny mimicked your position, his elbow knocking into yours. his hands were much too soft for a seasoned sailor, you noticed this in the dim lantern light. for a moment, you let your impulses take over and you wondered how they felt against yours

“pardon my words, but when will you let me speak to them? i can never find you through the day...” johnny began to ask, but trailed off when your salted eyes and weariness became apparent in the way you exhaled quietly

“it is not your fault but mine, johnny. this is my ship and i am the captain, that’s all. i cannot allow myself to suddenly become weak in case i am needed.” you spoke like a true hero, well, as much of a hero a pirate could be

johnny didn’t exactly understand, considering he just got up and left his entire life on a whim of a promise to find out who he was. but, he nodded anyways, watching blurred movements of entities swirl around your head like troubled smoke

“what about now? will you let me—?” when johnny reached out, you immediately stepped back, your lips pressed in a straight line as if restraining your true reaction

“you look for every reason to touch me, don’t you?” you tried to force it out like it was nothing, but it was clear how your boots twisted like they were prepared to run away

when was the last time someone physically comforted you in any sense? or... comforted you at all?

“captain...” johnny mumbled, eyes wide with pity and you couldn’t stand it. he called you captain, but he didn’t revere you like a typical person would. he didn’t flinch at your sword or head held high, it was unnerving

“what is the purpose of having a crew if they cannot help you through this?”

the wind wailing against your ears reminded you of how little time there was in a day, and how the sun would rise soon and this cycle of pretending everything was okay would begin again

it was maddening, to live the same day again and again with no change

johnny perhaps was someone you looked forward to, a diversion from the expected

“do you consider yourself apart of my crew, then?” when johnny took a moment to think, you wondered what he was remembering. was it the night where misumi pretended to fall over board to scare everyone or was it when kazunari didn’t react to seeing a skeleton that time? was it when muku could predict every type of weather for the next day without fail or when yuki finally cracked at a joke after a hour of pretending nothing was funny?

or, was it when you two shared glances across the deck, clinked your glasses a little too long, or when your hands ghosted over another when pulling lines?

“yes, your crew is my own as well. and like them, i wish to help you, if you’d let me.”

you always found yourself unsure around johnny, unaware of how to respond in a way worthy of your pirate captain title. as you hesitated, johnny looked you in the eyes and his eyes reminded you of storm clouds thundering in the distance

“why else would you take me on the ‘sky’? if you didn’t want help?”

perhaps those were words you would reveal later, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share the real answer. it was a gut feeling that your world would be turned upside down, and you were right when you felt your throat dry at johnny’s hopeful gaze

johnny continued on, straightening his usual bent posture and his voice carried, like he was one with nature. as if they supported him unconditionally

“i know this is your own battle to win and this is your ship and you are my—our captain, but please... let’s make a deal.”

you stood, intrigued, as you witnessed a side of johnny never seen before. once meek, once easily intimidated, now talked to you like an equal

“let’s promise to say things we both really feel. be honest with me, do you want me to help? to remove the spirits and let them move on?” when you nodded, johnny let out a breath of relief and moved closer, gathering your hands in his. when you didn’t pull away and only tensed, he spoke as if he was sure things would change

“i can help you, i can make them go away. you bring me back to my home, i let your spirits go home. deal?”

“is that how you truly feel?”

“and more.” johnny’s eyes glanced down, and you felt your heart stutter as if the surface rocked

“i feel the same way. i wish to help you.”

that night, you remembered for the first time in a long time, a captain was nothing without its crew

[nose-bandaid]

cat treats are meant for cats (only)

Jun x (gender neutral) Reader comedy, fluff?? | 1.4k

synopsis: the faint meowing you’ve been hearing for the past half-hour was actually, in fact, just your boyfriend.

a/n: this idea popped into my mind one day and i had to write it so... not as elaborate as my writing usually is (i think), this was just for funsies but i hope you enjoy !!

=====

It started faint, almost non-existent, so you didn't pay much attention to it and brushed it off as some distant noise from one of the neighbouring units.

But then it got a little louder and more persistent until you really couldn't deny something was going on and that it wasn't just a trick of the ear. So you put your phone down and stared into the hallway, eyes unfocused as you strained your ears. You waited until the sound came again.

Meow.

There it was. You knew your building allowed for pets, and you knew that if you walked onto your balcony, you would be directly facing a community park. However, you also knew that no one on your floor owned a pet, and as far as your memory goes, you've never seen someone take their cat out for a walk. Even if it was a sunny day today.

And the meowing sounded far too close to you.

"You idiot, why would you — arghgh."

Now that was definitely Jun's voice echoing down the halls. You put everything down and shuffled your way over to the bedroom where your boyfriend was, head leaning out of the open window. He had his hands stuck out as well and was waving them around a little. The fresh air cooled the room, and you instinctively took a deep breath before speaking up.

"Junnie, love, what in the world are you doing?"

His head whipped around, and his eyes lit up, delighted to see you.

"Y/n! There's a cat in the tree outside." He promptly went back to sticking his head out the window to make sure that the cat was still there.

You stifled a laugh at his statement and joined him. Sure enough, there was a cat perched on one of the large branches closest to your window. It was a tabby cat, if you identified it correctly, and its cream coloured fur was decorated with a unique pattern of white. It must’ve gotten frightened and scurried up the tree.

"The meowing just now was you?"

"Oh, you heard?" Jun asked, turning his attention from the cat to you. He seemed surprised to be told that you heard him.

"I know there are kids outside screaming in the park, but it's hard to not hear you meowing from the other room. What exactly are you trying to do?" The boy seemed so happy to have his day entertained with the presence of a cat and you wanted to indulge him. He's told you many times how he's always wanted a pet of his own, but you've both never had the chance to actually decide and commit to one. Nor have you guys really gone into depth on that discussion.

"Trying to communicate to it, of course! I want to help it climb down from the tree." He proceeded to meow again at the cat, only to have it stare indignantly back at him.

"Is this what you were calling an idiot before, too?" You quirked your eyebrows as you asked.

Jun blushed and hid his face with his hands for a moment at your question. "It just came out, I didn't mean to insult the cat I promise — many apologies were said afterwards. I told it to move back but instead, it stepped forward and almost fell off and I got worried." He pouted and you laughed at his concern for the feline.

"So I'm taking that it hasn't been cooperating with you, because I swear I started hearing the meowing at 1:00 and now it is," You paused to check your phone for the time. "1:37."

"Listen, we have something going on! I can feel the connection, it's just not quite there yet. How about you try?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

You faced him, suddenly feeling a sense of pressure, partly because of the responsibility he had given you, but also because you felt like you had to prove yourself to a cat of all things. "Like, just... meow?" You clarified.

"Perfect! But do it to the cat, not me. Unless you wanted me to meow back." He blinked at you expectantly.

"No, I'm good." You chuckled when you heard him still meow at you underneath his breath.

"Here goes nothing." You pursed your lips and waited for the cat to at least look somewhat in your direction. "Meow."

It simply went back to caring for its front paws.

"Meow." You tried again, putting a little more emphasis onto the "meow" (trust, that totally makes sense).

This time, it meowed back and you gasped, turning towards Jun who was staring at you in shock.

"I spend ten minutes just trying to get it to look at me and you get it to reply on the second try?" He sputtered out, scandalized at the unfair results.

"Well, what can I say? They all call me the cat whisperer." You replied haughtily.

"Y/n, no one has ever called you a cat whisperer before."

"Let me have my glory, would ya?" You playfully poked his side and meowed at the cat once more. Just like last time, it meowed back.

"Bro I'm getting good at this." You giggled, rubbing your hands together as you tried to think of a plan.

"Okay, kitty—"

"How is it going to understand English now?" Jun interrupted your focus.

"Shut up, we have a bond here."

"Okay, kitty," You started again and eyed one of the large branches. "You need to step back and climb down. Stop coming closer to us—"

You shut up when the cat meowed loudly back at you and inched in the complete opposite direction as what you instructed. When it plopped itself closer to the edge of the branch than you would've liked, you shot a worried glance at your boyfriend who seemed deep in thought.

"I think I've got an idea." He hummed and went over to one of his drawers to pull out a bag of cat treats. 

"You just have cat treats lying around? In your room?" You gawked incredulously at the unopened bag. 

"You're not eating them are you?" You then blurted out, concerned for the boy.

"What?!" He quickly shook his head in denial. "No, of course not. I give them to the stray cats I see when I'm out."

You let out a sigh of relief. You had asked that question as a joke, but hearing him confidently reject the idea was also reassuring. You never knew what your boyfriend was capable of.

Jun grit his teeth as he tried to open the package and you watched the fight between him and plastic intently. Just as it began to rip open, his hand slipped and a few of the treats fell out of the bag and onto the grass way below you.

Three heads turned to look at the fallen treats.

Yes. You, Jun, and the cat.

Two heads then turned to look at the cat.

With a happy meow, the tabby leaped off the branch it was on and landed on the grass gracefully. Now both of your jaws dropped at the scene in front of you.

"You're telling me it could've done that the entire time?" Your voice faltered.

"Sneaky! You deceitful creature!" Jun half-heartedly shook his hand angrily at the cat.

"I already miss it." He then said quietly and you let out a small laugh, rubbing his back in consolation.

You watched the cat scour the ground below for the lost treats for a while before you spoke again.

"Hey, why don't we go down there and see if it's actually a stray. If it is, maybe we can take it in? Bring it to the vet first to get it checked out and whatnot." You trailed off and smiled when he brightened up at your offer.

"Seriously? You're alright with that?" He gasped.

 "If everything checks out, I don't see why not." You happily shrugged your shoulders and pointed your head at his drawer. "We already have the treats aspect down anyways."

Jun pulled you into a hug at that and continued to ramble on about how happy he was to take in the cat, despite how troublesome it may have been earlier. 

“I have many more cat treats in my drawer.” He whispered into your ear and you sighed, smiling at his love for the creature. 

Then, Jun leaned out the window again to yell at the cat.

"Stay right there! We're coming to get your autograph!"

Needless to say, there were a few curious glances sent your way because a grown man yelling out the window really wasn't an everyday sight. But that didn't matter when you saw how big the smile on Jun's face was when you both returned home that day with a new pet in hand.

[moxfirefly]

Video calls and confessions

Part 2

Rated Explicit (18+)

Got around to that part teo for this one shot.

Hellboy/Cam!Girl

____________________

The world going to shit wasn’t exactly how’d you planned out your Friday afternoon. This morning you had woken up with enthusiasm and a desire to treat yourself.

You’d gone out to the city, had your nails done, grabbed an obscenely priced coffee and on your way had stumbled on a museum.

A little culture never hurt nobody.

For Christ sake it was a free entry day too.

So why then, as you admired priceless art and sculptures had literal hell descended upon the evening?

Creatures. Actual monsters. The screams of the public deafening.

That had happened about half an hour ago. In your haste you had thanked you fight or flight mode to quick into flight. The shaking in your body had cause you to run into one of the exhibit rooms most cluttered with random ���junk’ whatever this art installation had gone for it was surely not for somebody to duck behind for safety.

You checked your phone. The news was reporting the attack of the art museum. Authorities had been sent as well as the B.P.R.D...

That made you pause and clutch your phone.

If the bureau was on its way then that meant Hellboy was too.

The very notion of possibly seeing him in the flesh made your heart skip a few beats. The two of you had been communicating on and off for a while now since the private shows had started. You knew mixing work and pleasure wasn’t smart but fuck, you had it bad for this guy.

There was a sense of relief washing over you. He’d be here, he’d take care of this mess. Maybe you’d finally see him and not through a computer screen. You knew things had escalated with him although neither of you had really properly addressed it.

“Please whatever is up there, if I survive this I’m fucking telling him I’m in love with him” You whispered to yourself. This possibly couldn’t be your last day on earth.

Something screeching and something akin to a human scream startled you. You hugged your knees closer and tried not to breath loudly. Gunshots and more screams could be heard.

Then something came crashing into the installation where you were hiding. Your scream was imposible to hold in. The creature was screeching so loudly, a sound that left your ears ringing.

Adrenaline made you run out as fast as you humanly could. You heard the great strides it took to catch up to you. This was it wasn’t it? You were gonna die?

Your legs kept pushing you forward even as your muscles burned with pain. Your eyes hurt from crying and your throat felt like it was sandpaper. Something like a claw reaching for your hair made you close your eyes. There was no way you wanted to see how this ended for you.

Two shots.

Loud and so very clear, the sound coming out of left field made you trip and fall. The screening fortunately had stopped.

“Miss?! You’re safe! Hey! You gotta get out of here now!” That voice you knew all to well. You looked up and saw red and a stone hand.

“R-red...” Your voice was small, a sob catching in your throat.

“Y/N!?” He was shocked, eyes wide as he knelt in front of you.

You weren’t sure how your body moved or if he moved you but somehow you’d ended up with your arms around him sobbing into his neck. Hellboy held you tightly, whispering that you were safe, an array of cusses slipped out as he breathed heavily.

The knowledge that you were here, if he’d been a millisecond too late, all crashed down on him as he picked you up and carried you to safety.

You could’ve died, was all that ran through his head.

You’re alive, was all that ran through yours.

_______________

One helicopter ride, a medical exam and a shower later you found yourself at the home base of the B.P.R.D. A nice young woman by the name of Alice had loaned you some clothes and had taken you to Hellboy’s room to wait. A debriefing was happening and all you could do was sit tight.

You resolved to canceling all your cam shows for the week stating you had fallen terribly ill. There was no way you could work, your hands were still shaking as you typed out the post and notified your one on one shows. It felt like hours as you sat on the couch, you had looked around at his room, seeing and array of personal items that made up his personality.

Such a big part of you often dreamt about this but your nerves had you glued to your spot.

The door opened and Hellboy came barreling in like a tornado. You flinched and bit too hard on your already chewed off nail, so much for that manicure.

“I’m so sorry, I wanted to leave that stupid meeting but it’s fucking mandatory because Daimio thinks it’s necessary, asshole that guy I tell ya-“ He took in your state, the still slight tremble in your hands, the few scrapes here and there. You looked small and scared and it absolutely destroyed him.

In his silence he made his way towards the coffee table and sat in front of you. “You know I often fantasized what it be like to see you in the flesh, this wasn’t how it usually went I promise” He smiled and for the first time in this piss filled day, so did you.

“How would it go?” You asked softly.

“Some mood light, a little wine maybe some music” The two of you chuckled. Your chuckles quickly dissolved in you trying to hold back your tears.

You were almost killed tonight, the shock would take some time to subside. “Hey hey kid, it’s ok, I’ve got you. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you on my watch” Hellboy’s flesh hand rested on your knees.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his shoulder. “...When I read you guys were sent out, I really got excited that I’d finally see you” You felt his flesh hand stroke your hair.

“I’m in love with you” You blurted out, his hand going to still. “I said, if I’m making it out of this alive I’m telling him, so I’m telling you...” You looked up at him, e/c meeting his golden ones.

“I-Im not dancing around this no more, I’m tired of pretending that what’s been going on isn’t just some work thing that I do, fuck, I love you I really do and I think you do too” Your mouth want dry again, the scratchy sensation making you swallow.

Hellboy searched out your eyes, something in his head was going a mile a minute. Was he searching for a lie? Something disingenuous?

That all died when he lunged forward and kissed you.

A kiss that truly and utterly left no worry.

You were kissing Hellboy. You were gripping Hellboy by the scruff of his shirt. The way his lips molded against yours, the abnormal warmth to them, the softness to them, the roughness of his scruff.

Pulling back for air felt obligated but he’d insisted by pressing the stumps of his horns against your forehead. “Wow...that’s...so much better than I could’ve imagined” He was star struck in a way and it honest to god made you laugh.

The days events took a back seat for now you wanted to take in the being before you. You scanned everything you normally did while on cam with him. Your hands explored his face, running across scars and hair.

Then you remembered what lay to his right and your heart raced.

You gripped his stone hand, fascinated by the texture of stone, how he held your hand with so much regard to his strength. The patterns, the markings everything has you entranced.

“Extraordinary” Was all you could muster as you rubbed on what would be the inside f his wrist. “I’m sorry, is this weirding you out?” You looked at Hellboy only to find him grinning. “Having a beautiful girl touch me? Yes it’s completely weirding me out” He mocked and you couldn’t help but playfully shove him.

“God I need a beer, can we...?” He was leaning over toward the mini fridge next to the couch and pulling said drinks out. “Read my mind, beautiful” He offered one towards you.

This morning you were going about a normal routine, and now after a near death experience you were in the room of a man you had been falling in love with for months. The twist and turns of life.

Around round 3 you’d excused yourself to use the bathroom. As you washed your hands and saw your normal pristine face a little worn down from the stressful events you frowned.

But there you stood in Hellboy’s bathroom. Surrounded by things all him. The tips of your fingers ran through a brush of his. This was a reality right now.

You stepped out and caught him shrugging off his coat. Busying your thumbnail again at your teeth you watched his now visible arms flex with the movements.

“All good?” He smiled leaning against the dresser.

There was a pregnant pause in which the two of you merely just ogled one another from across the bed.

You moved first.

You walked over the bed and stood on it, you reached out a hand that he took without hesitation and with the extra height from the bed you met in a heated kiss face to face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his around your hips.

In a wordless haste you yanked at his black T-shirt and busied yourself with taking off yours. He watched mesmerized, as always, the revealing of your skin.

The image before you though, god you wanted to scream.

Hellboy undoing his belt and swiftly yanking the whole thing out of the belt loops without breaking eye contact. Off were your pants, and on was him as he took you down on the bed.

It was a haze, breathless kisses and chants of desire. He one handed the button of your jeans and his own. The brief separation to take the offending items off had the two of you giggling almost. In record time he was back on you and you welcomed it with a ferocity to your kisses. Tongue slipping into his mouth, you swallowed a groan of his that vibrated all the way to your cunt.

He was here, you were here. Physically.

You grinned as he trailed kisses over both your covered breast. “Take-fuck-take it off please, now right now” You felt the air leave your lungs when he simply broke the bra in half and met his reward, two beautifully round breasts he had craved more than any meal. Hellboy pressed his face between them and inhaled before leaving a series of bites and marks. Each time he bit down your raised your hips in search of friction.

The heaviness in the air, the warmth of him lapping and sucking at your breast. The heated tongue wrapping around a nipple. Hellboy devoured you, and if your breast had him like this...

“Baby please, wanna touch you too” Your hands ran down his back, sharp nails leaving a path. Hellboy shuddered as he left a nipple with a loud pop. “Go on, I’m all yours” That very comment sent a gush of heat and you bit your lip to hold a moan in.

You nudged him to lay on his back and you climbed on top of him. Hands running over your body, the feeling of that stone hand gently cupping your rear was enough to make you grind down on him with purpose.

“I promised you something every time we spoke, you remember what that was?” You rubbed yourself on him as you began to trail down his body. Hellboy’s eyes were fogged with lust. “Oh, you remember” You kissed his stomach, nails scratching his sides before hooking into the waistband of his underwear.

He was going to have a stroke.

Hellboy watched you slide his underwear down. Eyes hungry and mouth engulfing his cock. He bucked up without meaning to but you caught most of the onslaught by closing up your throat. A minor choke and you were back on track.

Fuck he was big and thick, you did your best swallowing as much as possible before settling the rest with your hand to jerk. The gut punched groan that left him egging you on. He saw your head bob, the way your lips stretched around his length, the blissed out look as you sucked earnestly. “Shit shit, you look beautiful” Hellboy reached a left hand across your cheek.

Letting him go with a breathy inhale, spit on your chin you jerked him lazily.

He was putting this look away for a rainy day. You had no right looking so utterly debauched and perfect.

“C’mere and kiss me, beautiful” Hellboy whispered softly and you obeyed crawling on him to meet him in a sensual slow lip lock.

Underwear gone, or more so also ripped apart. You were now on top of him about to guide his cock into your drenched hole. The initial burn was actually delicious, that breach between pain and pleasure sending a delightful shock through your body. Once fully seated on him you reveled in stretch and burn. “God this is, fuck I-“ You moaned as you tested with a sway of your hips, he was hitting your spot perfectly. You rested your hands on his chest and he gripped your waist.

Hellboy was gone, the sight of you riding him, lost in your pleasure caused by him nevertheless. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever see. Lost to it all you fell forwards, burying your face in his neck. Your impending release had you stuttering your hips. “I got you baby, I got you” He muttered against your ear. You moaned as he held you, hips pistoning upwards to drive that orgasm out of you.

It crashed something fierce, running all over your body and coming out as a scream against his neck. You felt limp as a noodle but held onto him as he fucked his way through yours. When he came he yanked another orgasm out of you along with his.

The two of you laid there, a mess of limbs clutching at each other. Hearts racing, lungs trying to catch up.

Exhaustion won. You fell a sleep on Hellboy, still inside of you, his mouth against your temple.

There was no turning back now.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

This is gonna sound dumb. I'm a JKer, but Vmin is making my head spin. Do you think it's possible both JK and Tae are in love with JM? Tokyo video, hints of living together, the way JK looks at JM like he's his world. The way Tae looks at JM like he's his world. The songs Tae wrote. SN confirmed what I already suspected. It's about JM. The tension JK & Tae had and JM being the one to lie to JK/set up them talking seems sus. Its making me wonder if JM is in the middle. Vmin's wrecking my ship LOL

One thing I want to get out of the way right away is this—this is the last time we’ll answer a question that concerns another ship. Our blog is supposed to be about vmin, namjin and BTS as group, and while we are all for everyone shipping whatever they like, I’d prefer to not talk about other ships on our blog. Not because we don’t like them, we don’t, but because the only ship we see as having true potential to be real is vmin, and perhaps namjin, and that’s it. Therefore, there isn’t really a point for us to talk about other ships in a romantic sense at all. If someone would like for me to talk about JinKook, for example, I’d gladly do it (I adore their bond and dynamic) so long as it isn’t meant as the romantic ship but the friendship between those two.

The only reason I’m replying to this, and a second mildly “similar” ask, is because it, in a way, plays into what I recently said about JK here. That’s it. So, now that that’s out of the way, the actual reply:

Let’s put it like this—it doesn’t sound dumb, necessarily, and the fact that as someone who ships a different pair you can still acknowledge that perhaps another might be true, that shows that you see things much more realistically than some others do. But, at the same time, I can’t agree with your statement, not because I don’t like your ship (quite honestly your ship has never even for a second made me go “huh?”) but because it would create an awful situation within the maknaes and I don’t think there’s any kind of hint for that. At least not in a romantic sense.

A while ago Admin 2 wrote a reply in which they argued that JK might simply be a vmin ally, as in that he helps them shield their private life and relationship from prying eyes because he loves his hyungs and all three of them know that the two main maknae ships are powerful “tools”. Here, again, it’s important to differentiate between ships and the real-life bonds between the members.

More below the cut because, as always, this got very long:

Do I think JK is in love with Jimin, or has been at any point in time, romantically? No.

From all the arguments you’ve mentioned, the one that stuck out to me the most was “he looks at JM like he’s his world”, which might simply be a shipper bias. We all have that. But I especially think it happens a lot with JK. While I’ll admit he does look at Jimin with deep admiration, it’s also true that he does the exact same thing with Namjoon and Seokjin, as examples. It’s very hard to properly read someone’s eyes and body language in general and do so without a bias (especially a confirmation bias). I actually wrote a post on that a while ago.

And yes, I would make the exact same argument for vmin (and namjin) as well. While yes, there are instances where we see what some have lovingly dubbed ‘Taehyungie’s Jimin smile’ or ‘Jimin’s TaeTae smile’, I don’t take any of those as “proof” or arguments for why I think vmin might be real. We have a plethora of other far stronger and more convincing arguments, so using different looks and expressions in one or the other members eyes, to me, is a bit pointless. Just look at the way Namjoon sometimes stands off to the side and looks at all the members with this deep love and pride. Does that mean he’s in love with all of them? No, of course not. Or the way Tae might look at Hobi or Yoongi. Does that mean he’s in love with them as well? No.

(The pictures of JK looking at Tae and Jimin in the blue suit, as far as I’m aware, were at the same award show. The last picture of JK on the right is him looking lovingly at ARMY, does that mean he’s in love with all of us as well? No.)

Unfortunately a loving expression doesn’t come with a precise label of “this is a loving gaze for a person I admire deeply” and “this is a loving gaze for a person I’m in love with”, so while we can identify their expressions as something related to “love”, everything else is us projecting and speculating. At the end of the day all the members deeply love and admire each other and have moments where they look at each other like they’ve hung the stars in the sky.

So, while these moments and pictures of JK looking “lovingly” at Jimin or Tae, or Tae looking “lovingly” at Jimin, or Jimin looking “lovingly” at JK or Tae, are very cute and lovely, they don’t really represent any kind of evidence for the presence of romantic feelings, even more so when those pictures are taken when another member sings or is saying something.

Placing Jimin as “the one in the middle” would cause drama that I quite honestly think has never been an issue within BTS in such a manner. One thing that I think all members value insanely, because otherwise the group would’ve long stopped working and fallen apart (and not just come close to it for different, unrelated reasons), is communication. Yes, it’s something they had to learn over time and haven’t always been great at, but with something as big as this, they would have to do it, especially if two members would’ve realized they’re in love with the same member. To me, and I don’t want this to sound mean or like I’m belittling your feelings/thoughts, this simply sounds like something straight out of a YA novel or teen drama on TV, or one of those manipulative, agenda driven videos on YouTube.

“The tension JK & Tae had and JM being the one to lie to JK/set up them talking seems sus. Its making me wonder if JM is in the middle.” This I think is a bit of a misinterpretation on your part, which I totally get, there were a million ways in which people interpreted this moment and perhaps I shouldn’t position myself as ultimate unbiased judge, but, well, you asked for my opinion so…The way I see it is that, if we believe Tae’s and JK’s words like we should, then it makes sense that JK might’ve been a bit apprehensive about the conversation with Tae, which would’ve called for the ‘need’ to involve Jimin (after all we know that Tae asked Jimin to help him) and have him “trick” JK. But, what I think is much more likely, is that it was simply staged in such a manner for entertainment purposes. I highly doubt Tae and JK didn’t discuss wanting to have this conversation for the cameras sometime beforehand but maybe they simply hadn’t decided on when to do it, so Tae used the chance on that evening to do it. But honestly that’s basically speculations on my part, and everyone else’s.

I don’t believe for a second that the conversation in ITS was the real, proper one JK and Tae had about this topic, because that would simply be way too personal and a breech their own privacy. Much more I think it was simply a conversation set up in order to communicate the situation between JK and Tae to us, show that while they had these awkward parts between them they still want to make an effort to “fix” things, and that they are still getting along no problem. Which they obviously do. That is the most important part for me in all of it, the fact that they felt comfortable enough to share this with us, to face the uproar I’m sure they were aware it would cause within certain parts of the fandom, and yet…they still did it.

The whole scene of involving Jimin might’ve simply been for theatrics and to make it more interesting to watch (and offer for a great episode cliffhanger) and also to loosen up the atmosphere a little.

One thing though I’ve found very curious since the time when the episode aired was the question of why Jimin and Seokjin remained close by and played with a ball in the dark, of all things. But I’ll never know the answer beyond theories and that’s fine. The bottom line is that Jimin didn’t act as “the one in the middle of a love triangle” but more as a third party who has a strong friendship with JK (thus it was clear that JK would listen and follow him outside) and who’s soulmates with Tae (thus it makes sense that he would help him arrange that conversation and help him get rid of his nervousness). Admin 2’s theory is that Jimin was nearby as support for Tae and Seokjin as support for JK, since we know they share a close and deep bond as well.

As for the “living together hints”, which rely mostly (if not entirely) on the car sharing argument, I spoke about it here and here, and GCF Tokyo. Well. I know that one is used as crown argument but if we apply the same logic, I’ve seen applied to it, then we could also say that GCF Osaka was JK’s “couple vlog” for vmin, since they were the main focus in that video. We could say that GCF Helsinki was him hinting at the band falling apart/breaking up since the song was a sad one seemingly talking about a relationship coming to an end and each party going a different way, one taking the ocean and one the desert. Others claim that GCF are J*k*ok specific because Jimin is the main model, but that’s something JK himself has negated at least twice to my knowledge.

Personally, GCF Tokyo has been in late 2017 while we have 2021 now. It was a moment in time where, according to some, vmin were “d*ad” and J*k*ok on the rise, but we know the former isn’t true. It was a hard time for everyone, a challenging one, and curiously enough, a few months after the Tokyo trip, Tae began working on Happy Christmas, a duet for himself and Jimin that’s very much romantic sounding and was likely meant as gift for Jimin. If he knew JK was into Jimin romantically, that his feelings might be reciprocated, that Tokyo was a romantic trip, I think there is absolutely no way he (Tae) would’ve done that.

So, all in all, while you, anon, can think whatever you like and what you think is likely, this is my opinion which can be summed up easily as: vmin are vmin and JK is their close friend, but there have never been romantic feelings from JK toward Jimin, while it seems that there are a lot of (requited) romantic feelings from Tae toward Jimin.

Admin 2 has a theory, and perhaps it’s delulu and unsubstantiated, but they want to share it anyway: We know that when Tae started filming Hwarang and the Wooga squad was formed, Tae spent quite a bit of time with them. Perhaps that has a kind of loose correlation with the timing of the Dumpling Incident and their 4am meeting at the park and all the implications of what meaning it truly might’ve had for Tae and Jimin, that he saw spending time with his Wooga squad as a form of “”escape””. The Tokyo trip was simply a gift from JK to Jimin that was meant as a kind of cheer up gesture for Jimin. I don’t think it was their romantic/intimate trip, as so many try to show it as such, because if it were so, we wouldn’t have heard so much about it because we know Jimin is a very private person. Also, if it were such an intimate thing, why would they have created so much around it in form of videos and even interviews, a whole PR thing? Shippers, of course, created this entire mythos out of their trip, a whole fantasy.

Let’s be real, some of the stories and theories being shared by some about the trip are not only impossibly unrealistic but also insane and stupid at times, since they contain twisted “facts”, agenda-based interpretations and things that are simply impossible, like them supposedly having gotten married during that trip. In a country that doesn’t have same sex marriage. Just to return to a country that, also, does not have same sex marriage. As idols.

If Jimin and JK would’ve wanted to go on a romantic, intimate couples’ trip together, I’m 100% sure we would’ve never found out about it. Easy as that.

Lastly, the way these questions are set up and thought out, this whole thing about drama and jealousy and love triangles, they sound like stereotypical “teenage girl” thinking, classic by the book like YA books and teen movies marketed toward girls. Which isn’t meant as shade against you or teenage girls, but there’s a difference between how boys act and how girls do, how of course boys and men also cause drama but it’s a different kind of drama, while this whole jealousy thing is more of a girl thing. It’s part of nearly every plot written by and for girls. And if you notice, most of those YT videos are built upon this scheme, and why is that? Because mostly girls watch it and they’re made by girls/women.

I, just like Admin 1, think that if Tae realized that there’s something romantic between JK and Jimin, Tae would’ve immediately stopped with all the romantic songs, the picture, and everything else. But instead vmin progressed the way they did, and we are where we are today.

The second ask we got is this one and it might be the first time Admin 1 truly got angry and went on a rant:

From anon: Its kinda obvious Vmin use JK to get to each other. No doubt they all have a special bond, but I noticed in one vid, JM slaps JK's ass, but turns and smiles smugly at V and V smiles, but when JM walks off, the smile fades and V tilts his head and gives JM a go to hell look. lol. V grabs JK to sing to him, but V's not looking at JK, his eyes are glued to JM. When JM walks off, V just leaves JK standing there. Jikooks cooking live V calls. JM knows V's watching and nuzzles JK's neck. Kinda obvious

Let me be frank for a moment—this is completely bizarre to me, nasty and stupid. I’m sorry. I know it makes for fantastic drama, it fuels analysis videos (which brings in clicks and thus more revenue), but IF this were at any point in time real, do you really think BTS would still be BTS today? Do you really think the members would be as close as they are today? Do you really believe something as ridiculous as this happening in real life would fly? That Namjoon, as leader, as well as their managers and team, would allow for something like this to happen? And perhaps that last question might sound weird to you, but it’s true.

Also “I noticed in one vid” this fascinates me, and also confirms everything I need to know about this ask—I know where theories like this come from and I think I’ve made my stance on it clear in a previous reply, but I’ll repeat it one more time: analysis, theory and compilation videos are manipulative, inherently biased and agenda pushing and, in most cases, have zero connection to real life. They create bizarre scenarios and theories that push ideas of jealousy, betrayal, and powerplay because that’s what brings in the clicks, because people love drama, because that means things are happening and that’s exciting. But, with a band as big, kind, humble, and beautiful as BTS? That’s rude, disgusting, and presents the members as the exact opposite of who they are as people.

Things that happen on stage are, in many cases, preplanned “fan service” meant to entertain the audience. A split-second facial expression or supposed “mean eyes” between members are usually a bias reading or might simply have a completely unrelated cause, depend on the angle you watch the moment from, and a billion other factors that have nothing to do with drama, jealousy or any such nonsense.

Presenting the maknaes, and especially Tae and Jimin, the way you do, do you know what that would make them? Abusers. It would mean they abuse their position of seniority over JK and use him for sick games, knowing that age hierarchy wise he wouldn’t be able to “defend” himself quite the way same age friends would between each other, or an older member. It presents Tae and Jimin as evil, nearly vile, and toxic, like they see JK only as a toy to be used for some kind of game between each other, and that is truly disgusting and uncalled for.

Also, all of this erases JKs autonomy and place in the band, as artist and human, and presents him as just a toy to be used and played with, which again is the same thing shippers also do with him. I have a whole post about it. Read it and maybe think about everything you just said again and why you did so.

I don’t know what the point of this ask was, but for future reference—we will never answer such an ask again and I will not allow such ideas any kind of space on this blog.

That’s all.

Admin 2: Everything that happens on stage during concerts is more or less preplanned by the members. We know that vmin love roleplaying. I’ve noticed that in their interactions on stage they occasionally also use some elements of their roleplays. I wouldn’t be surprised (I think I know which video you are talking about, I’ve seen it) that what’s shown in that video is one of those typical vmin moments/behaviors. Especially if the video you mean is the one I’m thinking about is the same video that ends with JK standing between Jimin and Tae and while they bow, he brings Tae’s and Jimin’s hands together, which would mean there are no hard feelings at all and that JK is consciously involved in it all.

We should also remember that Tae interacts and does fanservice with him, so why do people not suspect that Tae also uses Jin for his “games” with Jimin? Or when Jimin does something with Namjoon, that he does that in order to make Tae jealous? Because we know it’s all planned and done on purpose for fans and there is no space or reason for anyone to do jealous or “use” another member for anything like what you suggested.

If there really were a reason for Jimin and Tae to want to make each other jealous or anything else, it wouldn’t happen in places where we see it, wouldn’t be happening on stage during a BTS concert since it would threaten their image. What happens on stage has no correlation with their private life, as in, that you don’t take your issues on stage.

Think about Burn The Stage and the conflict between Tae and Jin. Namjoon at the time wasn’t mad at Tae for bringing up the issue, he was merely mad because he’d done so just before going on stage, meaning that hurt feelings would go on stage with them and it could interfere with their performance and interactions. Knowing that, would Jimin and Tae do what you claim they did? No. If they interact and do things with JK on stage, none of it is meant as a way to “get at” another member or to create jealousy, it’s simply entertainment, fanservice, things meant to get a reaction out of the crowd. They are professionals. And such behavior has no space on a stage during a professional concert carried out by artists who are professions.

[cutieodonoghue]

the edge of hope (2/9)

summary: canon divergent au; when Din left Sorgan to protect the Child, he left the woman he’d fallen in love with, not knowing he’d also left behind something else. Or, Omera and Winta join Mando and Grogu on their season 2 adventures. Mandomera!

Catch up here: 1

Second chapter below the cut or on AO3!

The Marshal

Peli Motto was a small woman, whose brown curls were wild and free atop her head. Her hands were on her hips the instant the ramp to the Razor Crest extended downwards.

Her worker droids seemed eager to get to work on the ship, chirping and chattering as the steam from the engines exhausted, three of them with tools in hand at Peli’s side. She shooed them away, but he shrugged, saying, “May as well let them have at it.”

In a sling he’d constructed of fabric, he held the Child at his side, and behind him, both Omera and Winta followed onto the flat white sand of the hangar bay. 

The trip had been seamless, and he’d actually found that he enjoyed getting to spend the idle time listening to Winta tell stories about life on Sorgan. Omera had been quiet, but her smile was kind when he mentioned that the Child had begun trying to form words. Nothing substantial yet, but Din was sure he’d get there eventually.

“I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos…” Peli paused, surprise in her features at the sight of the Child slung off to his side. He adjusted it so that the Child could see her more clearly, slowing to a stop before the woman. “Oh, thank the Force! This little thing has had me worried sick.”

Peli reached in, grabbing the Child without permission. He squeaked, little noises that Din had learned indicated that he was curious.

“Looks like it remembers me. How much do you want for it?” She paused, eyes finding Omera standing at his side. She softened slightly. “Guess your crew’s grown since the last time you were here, too.”

Din glanced over at Omera and Winta. In a way, it felt like he was introducing them to an old friend, even if he and Peli weren't quite friends- or were they? 

Maybe they could find themselves on Nevarro and meet up with Karga and Dune at some point. Omera would probably like to see Cara again.

He nodded at Peli. “We’re here on business. Need your help.”

"Hold on. Aren't you gonna introduce me to your new crew members?"

Omera stepped forward, smiling kindly. "I'm Omera. This is my daughter, Winta."

Peli grinned. "Peli. It's good to meet you. Anyone who travels with Mando here is a friend in my book." Lifting an eyebrow at him, she snarked, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Din turned his attention onto the Child still held snug in Peli's arms.

“I’ve been quested to bring this one back to its kind. Can you help?”

“Oh, wow.” She scoffed and gave her head a minute shake. “I’ve never seen any like it. And trust me, I’ve seen all shapes and sizes in this town.”

 “If I can locate another of my kind, I can chart a path through the network of coverts.”

Peli looked him up and down. “You’ve been the only Mando here for years from what I can tell.”

“Where is Mos Pelgo?” Omera spoke up. “We’ve heard that there is one there.”

“Oh. Boy, I haven’t heard that name in a while.” Peli frowned. “It was wiped out by bandits. Once the Empire fell, it was a free-for-all. I didn’t dare leave the city walls. Still don’t.”

“Can you tell us where it used to be?” Din asked.

“R-five!” Peli called out. “Bring the map of Tatooine!”

The droid did as was requested, with only a mild admonishing by Peli. With the holo map displayed, the hangar manager gestured to the markings.

“This is a map of Tatooine before the war. You got Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and up around this region, Mos Pelgo.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, it’s there. Or, at least, it used to be. Not much to speak of. It’s an old mining settlement.” She turned, looking at the Crest. “They’re going to see that big hunk o’ metal long before you land.”

“You still have that old speeder bike?”

Peli looked at the group of them, already chastising him for the idea before she could do it with her words. “You can’t all fit on one speeder bike. How about we find you one more? The ladies can share.”

Din turned to Omera. “Do you think you could ride a speeder with Winta?”

With a little breathless smile, she shrugged. “I used to race speeders. Why not?”

Suddenly, he was desperate to learn so much more about Omera, but there was no time.

“Where’d you find this one?” Peli teased with a wink. “I know a guy. Let’s get you on your way.”

-

Omera’s speeder bike had a sidecar where Winta sat, strapped in tight. They rode behind Din, whose attention was dead-set on getting them well on their way to Mos Pelgo before the suns set.

As they traveled the sandy dunes of Tatooine, Omera smiled to herself beneath the scarf she used to cover her mouth and nose. It had been a long time since she’d last ridden a speeder, but it felt natural to be back at it again. Winta seemed to enjoy it too, giggling loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the engine. 

Swiftly, it seemed, dusk came upon Tatooine. Din slowed when they spotted a group of camped out Tusken Raiders, all gathered around a fire with something cooking on top of a spit.

“I think we should stop. Ask for directions.” Din spoke just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bikes. “They know this land.”

Omera nodded in agreement. “Do you speak their language?”

“I speak a lot of languages.”

It was all he said, as if it was the most casual thing in the whole of the galaxies to be well-versed in a lot of languages. She resolved she’d have to ask him more about it later.

Din led them into the camp with one hand held up in an act of peace. The Raiders had banthas grazing, something that drew Winta’s attention. Having slowed her speeder to a stop behind Din, Omera withdrew her scarf and smiled softly at her daughter.

“They’re called banthas.”

Winta’s eyes grew wide with curiosity. “Do you ride them?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Omera confirmed, keeping her voice quiet.

Din spoke to the Tuskens, gesturing with his hands as he went. It seemed the Tuskens found whatever he had to say amenable, returning to the campfire with a gentle gesture of kindness made with one of their staffs.

The Mandalorian turned to them. “They would like us to join them.” 

He stepped toward their speeder and helped Winta out of the sidecar. Omera watched with so much intensity that it prevented her from climbing off of the bike herself. It was endearing to see that he cared.

As soon as Winta had set her feet on solid ground again after a day of riding through the desert, he turned to her. “You alright?” 

Omera smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

Swiftly, she climbed off of the bike and moved to reach into one of the pouches on the side, where she’d stored some food for them to share on their journey to Mos Pelgo. After handing Winta a ration of food, she took her by the hand to walk with her toward the strangers.

She and Winta kept quiet, sitting opposite of Din at the fire that was mostly surrounded by Raiders. Din spoke with them. His knowledge of their language was entirely fascinating to her.

The discussion wasn’t very long, and once it was over, the Raiders took their food that had been cooking and retreated to their banthas just beyond a hunk of rock in the earth so that they could rest.

The fire still crackled between them, giving the armor Din wore a warm orange tint. Beside him, the Child sat, still keeping his unyielding focus on his father.

“They say it isn’t far from here,” Din told them. “Just a few more hours. We can make it by midmorning tomorrow.”

“Did they say if there were people still living there?”

He nodded. “They say it’s a small community.”

Omera looked at Winta. Her daughter kept her gaze on the sky, scanning the stars above them. It must have been a lot for her to take in. A new planet, with new creatures and beings. New languages that didn’t make sense to her mind.

She put her hand on Winta’s back and soothed her by rubbing a gentle circle with her palm. 

“How are you feeling, my love?”

“Tired,” Winta admitted. She scrunched up her nose as her focus returned to her. “We were riding the speeder bike for so long.”

“I know.” Omera smiled sympathetically. She bit down on her lip, thoughtful, and then looked at the rock just opposite them beyond the fire. “Come with me. We can lean back against the rock and try to rest.”

Together, they stood and joined Din on his side of the fire. Winta sat against the rock first, and Omera followed. When she did so, she was surprised to see that the Child stared back at her, his head tilted with curiosity.

“Are you tired too?” she wondered.

The Child made a noise, a little blep. Din scooped him up and stood from his little stool made of a chunk of rock. He moved to join Omera, settling down close enough to her that she felt his shoulder touching hers.

The Mandalorian adjusted his son in his arms, cradling him, and then looked at her. “I’ll keep watch. Just in case.”

“You should rest too,” Omera said. She didn’t want him to carry the burden of being the sole protector of their group. She wanted him to know that he had an equal in her. “I can keep watch for a little while.”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” 

She sighed a little, but nodded regardless. Omera brought her arm around Winta, the girl already eager to lean into her side so she could sleep cushioned by her. 

Gently, Omera allowed her head to fall onto Din’s shoulder, and she felt him go still, as if surprised, but he didn’t say or do anything. 

Then, she heard him sigh softly, and his voice was quiet, “Sleep well.”

-

Almost as soon as the twin suns of Tatooine rose, they were on their way to Mos Pelgo. Feeling not so refreshed from what amounted to a nap or two sitting upright against a rock, Omera felt confident that they would find what they were looking for.

Their arrival caused somewhat of a stir in the people of the tiny town, especially as they slowly rode their speeders through it in search of another of Din’s kind.

“Do you think they’re here?” Winta asked nervously.

Din remained quiet as he surveyed their surroundings from just ahead of them.

Tucked into a pouch that hung from the side of the speeder, the Child peered around at the faces of the onlookers. His little ears twitched at all of the sounds of the new town. Omera could tell that he was incredibly happy to be on an adventure with his father. He’d worn a smile on his face since they landed on Tatooine.

Din slowed to a stop before the town bar and climbed off of his speeder without any further thought or discussion, moving toward the building with intent.

Winta, her carefree girl, very nearly followed after him, but Omera slowed her with an extended hand. Together, they made for quite the crowd. Part of her wondered if it would be sustainable in their search for a Jedi.

“We’ll wait outside, Winta.”

Winta huffed a dramatic sigh, throwing her head back as she folded her arms to her chest. “But Mama, we’re here to help.”

“I don’t think we’ll be very helpful if we get in the Mandalorian’s way.” 

Omera climbed off of the speeder, watching with curiosity when she spotted the Child climbing out of his little pouch to go join Din in the bar. She made no move to stop him. Din was his father, and she was only a friendly face to him.  

As Omera helped Winta out of the sidecar, Winta’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard you say his name. Din. Can I say it too?”

Omera glanced into the open door to the bar. She saw three figures within, but the light from the suns was too bright for her to know if Din had found who he was searching for.

Looking to her daughter once again, Omera shook her head. “We can ask him. But not yet. He has a lot on his mind right now.”

Taking Winta by the hand, they moved to stand by the door of the bar, off of the sandy road that cut straight through Mos Pelgo. The small town was surprisingly populated for having no markings on any map. In some ways, it reminded her of the village they lived in on Sorgan: a tight-knit group of people from all walks of life, all gathered to form one community.

Just opposite them on the other side of the road, Omera spotted a woman with a baby, swaddled against her chest. The child’s head was all she could see, but she couldn’t help but take compassion on their mother, who struggled to lift a container filled with water up onto the porch of the dwelling.

Their eyes met from across the sandy divide and Omera smiled, her fingers having fallen to the small swell of her belly as a reflex. It seemed the woman found kinship with her, offering a kind smile in return.

There was a great rumbling of the earth that forced Omera into protective mode. She grabbed for Winta as the ground shook and listened as fearful townspeople scurried away from the main road and into their homes as fast as they could.

Suddenly, an alarm blared, but it did not give nearly enough forewarning of what was to come.

Din and another of his kind, donning an aged and worn sort of armor, but who wore no helmet, stepped out of the bar.

She’d learned from Din that Mandalorians wore their full armor in the presence of others. It seemed there was still something for them to learn about Din’s kind, if this man was indeed a Mandalorian.

The sand began to move, as if swallowed by the ground, starting at the far end of town. Swiftly, a creature hidden by sand burrowed straight through, dark and powerful. 

From what Omera could tell, it was a sand dragon, scales the color of the sand. She was sure it had plenty of sharp teeth that would destroy anything that stood in its path, including an innocent bantha just beyond the town’s outer rim.

The dragon made a noise, a moan, and then it was back beneath the surface, burrowing away from Mos Pelgo as if it got what it came for.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun, but the ground still vibrated in the creature’s stead.

Without the alarms blaring, the townspeople began to make right their main road. They worked in teams to reset fallen equipment, to survey the damage as if this were something that happened often. Omera’s heart sank for them.

“Are you alright?” Din’s voice returned her focus to him.

She nodded, realizing that she still held onto Winta as if something was about to happen. She gently released her daughter, glancing past Din to the man in green and red Mandalorian armor.

“We’re fine.”

“Now, hold on,” the man said, a polite smile curling at his lips. “Just who might you be?”

“I’m Omera. This is my daughter, Winta. We’re traveling with the Mandalorian.”

The man looked at Din thoughtfully for a beat. Then, nodded at Omera. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”

“It’s good to meet you, Marshal.”

She had the feeling that Cobb Vanth wasn’t truly a Mandalorian. He seemed carefree in the armor, as if not sworn to any sort of creed. The way Din stared after the Marshal made it clear even without seeing his facial expression: he didn’t trust him.

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established.” Cobb said, gesturing to the town street. “Thanks to this armor, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect ’em.” He eyed Din. “But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone. Help me kill it, I’ll give you the armor.”

Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, Din seemed to consider how he would do such a thing. 

“Deal. I’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait.”

Cobb Vanth shook his head. “Not so simple. The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground.” He paused, seeming to know he had Din where he wanted him. “But I know where it lives.”

“How far?”

“A few hours at most.”

-

They rode speeder bikes following Cobb Vanth’s lead straight into Tusken Raider territory. The Tuskens, they soon discovered, had been trying to rid the valley of the krayt dragon, but hadn’t been successful.

As they all sat around a fire in their small village on a tall ridge, Omera listened to the Tusken leader explain to Din that the dragon had taken a home that they would visit come the morning. 

Winta lay curled at Omera’s side, sleeping to the sounds of discussion and a warm fire. On her other side, the Child sat, his ears perked at the chatter. He seemed deeply interested in what was going on, but especially in the sound of Din’s voice.

Cobb Vanth clearly had some qualms about the Sand People, his fears coming out in frustration that ended with Din rising to his feet and blasting a brief stream of fire from his flamethrower between the two parties.

Silence fell over the group for a moment before Din spoke in Tusken again.

“What are you telling them?” Vanth asked, still catching his breath from his anger.

“Same thing I’m telling you,” Din said coolly. “If we fight amongst ourselves, the monster will kill us all.” 

When there wasn’t any conversation left to be had, the Tusken leader made a gesture to Din and their people retreated to their homes a few hearty paces away from the fire.

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Din explained to her and the marshal. 

Pride wasn’t quite the only thing she felt, having watched Din spend the past several hours bridging the gap so that two groups of peoples could not only communicate, but form a bond in the shape of coming together to fight for a similar cause.

Cobb Vanth rose from his perch by the fire and nodded. “You were… very helpful today, Mando. Apologies that things got so heated.”

Din nodded his head once at Vanth, but said nothing in response. Omera stared into the flames of the fire as the marshal’s footsteps faded into the near distance. Perhaps he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Come here, kid,” Din’s voice brought her attention away from Cobb. He stood from his previous spot across the fire, moving to be closer to her and Winta. With hands outstretched, he took his boy into his arms. “Time to sleep.”

The Child made a little noise in protest and Din shook his head, sighing heavily. He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small metal ball, holding it between his fingers for just a second before giving it to his son.

The responding coo was enough to make Omera smile. 

The Mandalorian settled himself and his son on the ground beside her, taking care to ensure that the boy was more comfortable than he was. 

There was no doubt in her mind that he was a good father, and he would continue to be, even if she chose not to share the secret she carried within her.

So easily, her mind retreated back to the fact that she still hadn’t told Din. She knew she shouldn’t tell him right then, not with his head in the midst of such a deep, complicated problem. However, soon, she’d have no choice, and that was something that terrified her.

It was dangerous to love a man whose life was one mission, one fight, one danger after the next. She’d learned this once before, with Winta’s father, and had been determined that she wouldn’t allow it to happen again. 

Yet, her heart yearned for him anyway. 

“Is all of this really for a suit of armor?” Omera asked quietly.

Din turned his head toward her. “It’s Mandalorian armor. It doesn’t belong with him.”

Omera smiled thoughtfully. She shifted just slightly, enough that their arms brushed. “I think you can’t help but solve every problem that comes your way. You can’t help but help people.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s kind.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “You are a good man, Din.” She paused, smiling a little when she took notice of the Child sleeping in his arm. “And a good father.”

The Mandalorian was silent for a moment. His voice cracked when he spoke again, soft, just for her, “I’m trying.”

-

Just shortly before morning arrived on the sandy planet of Tatooine, Omera woke up. She checked on her companions and quickly discovered that the children both remained soundly asleep. 

The Child rested beneath Winta’s arm like he belonged there, making the tiniest noises that made her smile. The visual was a warm reminder of a time to come, when Winta would get to cradle her new sibling as they slept.

Din was nowhere to be found, but Cobb was still asleep as well, hands tucked together against his chest while he laid flat on the ground. 

Omera stood so that she could stretch. It wasn’t easy to sleep on the ground and her body made sure she knew that. With a small grimace, she felt the tell-tale signs of a friendly bout of sickness tickle at the back of her throat.

The Sand People had shown them where they could relieve themselves in private, so she made her way to the space between two rocks and unceremoniously got sick.

By the time she was finished and had pulled herself back together, the suns had finally poked their way past the horizon. As she emerged from the space between the rocks, she saw the Mandalorian. He stood talking with one of the Tuskens, though his attention very quickly shifted onto her.

Averting her gaze with the smallest twinge of embarrassment, Omera walked back to the campsite. Winta had risen for the day and sat up with her arms wrapped around her knees. She stared blankly ahead of her, very clearly just as exhausted as Omera felt.

“Morning, Winta.” Omera managed a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Not so good.” Winta scrunched up her nose. “The ground is very hard.”

Omera hummed. She went to their speeder bike to grab a container of water from a pouch at the side. When she joined her daughter on the ground, she had a hearty sip to wash away the taste of bile from her throat.

“I don’t suspect we’ll be sleeping on the ground for very much longer,” Omera told Winta. “Do you want some water?”

Winta nodded. She handed the container off to her daughter and peered over at Din. The Mandalorian made his way toward the camp, hands on his hips like he was in charge. His arrival to the camp made his boy toddle toward him with arms outstretched.

“The Tuskens said we have to ride banthas to the sarlacc pit.” 

He leaned down to pick the Child up and settled him into one arm. It was so natural how he fathered his boy.

“Really?” Winta asked eagerly. Suddenly, she was wide awake and ready to see what the day held for them.

Din nodded once. “They’d like us to leave soon, so if we’re all ready…”

Winta was on her feet in an instant. “C’mon, Mama. We get to ride a bantha!”

Omera laughed. She stood again and met Din’s gaze. Her heart skipped an unexpected beat and her belly swooped. 

“You’ll have to teach us how. We don’t have any experience.”

He tilted his head slightly at her. “Well… it’s pretty simple. I don’t know if you need a lesson.”

Omera lifted a shoulder and smiled at him. “Humor us.”

When they were given a bantha to share, Din helped direct them. “You first, Omera. Grab the horn on the saddle. It’s like riding a speeder.”

Omera did as she was told, careful with the mighty beast as she slung her leg over the saddle and put both feet into the stirrups. Looking down, she saw Winta beaming with delight.

“Me next?”

“Here.” Din held out his hands in preparation for grabbing Winta from behind. “I’ll help.” 

The Mandalorian hoisted Winta up into his arms and Omera helped settle her onto the saddle in front of her. When Winta was secured, Omera held onto her tightly, arms wrapped around her middle.

Winta giggled with the brightest kind of happiness. 

“Thank you,” Omera said earnestly to the Mandalorian. 

Din nodded at them. “You’re welcome.”

When their banthas began to move, Winta gasped and laughed again. Din glanced over at them from his and Omera swore she could almost see his smile. 

-

After visiting the sarlacc pit, they returned to the village on the tall ridge for another evening of discussions. The Tuskens showed them that they’d come up with the bare bones of a plan by literally using, well, bones. 

Diplomacy between the people of Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens continued well through the night, arguments and ideas exchanged with tense looks and words spoken through the Mandalorian.

Omera cared for the children as best she could, supervising as they played and drew figures in the dirt. When it came time to eat, she prepared a small meal of soup for the Tuskens to thank them for their kindness. 

As she ladled out a second bowl for the Child, she listened to Din speak with Cobb Vanth. It was apparent that tensions were still high, but she had a feeling Vanth would be unable to keep fighting off the sand people, should he want the krayt dragon to leave his people alone.

Cobb pivoted on his foot, reaching up to scratch his beard in thought, and walked away, leaving Din alone to speak to the Tuskens.

When they seemed satisfied, Din approached the Child, who sat on the ground with his bowl of soup between both hands. 

“He’ll come around to your plan.” Omera stood to ladle out a bowl of soup for the Mandalorian, fresh from the pot over the fire. “He’s just too proud to admit he needs help.”

She held the bowl out for him to take. “It isn’t much, but it will fill you for the night.”

“Thank you.” For a moment, he didn’t take it from her, simply staring at her instead. When he finally extended his fingers to take it, he asked softly, “How are the children handling all of this?”

“As well as any child.” Omera smiled a bit when she recalled Winta’s soft sighs of boredom earlier in the night. Now, she laid on the ground sound asleep. “Winta has already learned so much about the universe she could never learn in her lessons at home. She loves the banthas.”

Din chuckled. “I heard.”

Glancing over at Din’s son, she found him staring up at them with his teeth exposed and a happy giggle. Omera had learned quickly that the boy found the most joy in the simplest moments. He liked being a child, something that he’d never be able to have. Not truly.

“He loves to hear your voice. I think he would be happy anywhere you were.”

Din sat on the ground beside the Child, earning the boy’s affection in an instant. Omera joined them, drawing her knees toward her chest so she could rest her cheek upon them as she gazed after the man she loved.

He adjusted the bowl in his hands. “The plan will only work if we all work together. I worry that won’t be possible.”

Omera’s heart ached. “You’ve done all you can. It’s up to them to see this for what it is.”

The fire crackled and she shifted to allow herself to get lost staring into it. Her mind drifted, thoughts of the future echoing through her mind in a pleasant daydream. 

“The Tuskens told me they were thankful for your kindness today.”

She smiled softly to herself. Looking at Din again, she wondered aloud, “When did you learn their language?”

“I was taught many languages as a child. It was part of my training.”

Omera hummed in understanding. Between them, the Child waved his hand at her, as if trying to get her attention. “Hello, little one.”

“He likes you.”

She flashed a smile at Din. “Since we’re part of the same crew, I’m glad. It would make for difficult travels otherwise.”

Din laughed through his nose, barely enough to humor her. She had the feeling that he was unsure of how to act with her. If she were being honest, she wasn’t exactly sure either. 

She had joined him on this mission out of a deep desire to know if they could be together. She wanted to learn if his time on Sorgan had merely been a gift that should have been cherished for what it was.

So far, she’d found that traveling with the Mandalorian brought her more comfort than she’d thought it could. 

For so long after he left the village, whether she meant to or not, she’d waited for him to return. As the days had passed, she wondered if he could possibly feel the same way she felt for him. It was nice to think that maybe he did. Why else would he have invited her to come with him?

His fingers caressed the rim of his bowl of soup, a reminder to her that he wouldn’t eat it unless he could remove his helmet, something that would require him to be alone.

Carefully, Omera lifted his son from where he sat between them into her arms and cradled him against her chest. 

“We’ll turn away so you can eat.”

With a brief look around to check their surroundings, Din nodded.

Omera turned away from the Mandalorian, focused on the babbling Jedi child in her arms. He put a hand on her cheek and she smiled at him.

“Are you getting tired yet?” she asked quietly. “Winta fell asleep a while ago.”

The Child’s fingers moved away from her face and he blinked slowly, revealing that he was indeed getting sleepy. Omera lifted her fingers to the wrinkled top of his head and soothed him.

Softly, she sang the words of an ancient lullaby, a song she’d sung to Winta when she was a newborn baby. A song she would sing one day to the child growing within her as well.

As the verses of the song came to an end, she hummed the melody, gently swaying with the Child in her arms. His eyes had fallen shut, but she could tell he wasn’t quite asleep yet.

After a few more minutes, she rested her palm over his belly and lowered her lips to the top of his head. “Sleep well.” 

“You have a beautiful singin’ voice, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

Omera looked up at the sound of Cobb Vanth’s voice. He approached the fire with his hands settled on his hips.

She smiled at his complimentary words. “Thank you, Marshal.”

The Marshal of Mos Pelgo turned his attention to the Mandalorian. “It’s nice to see a family tight knit as you are. Got some really good kids, too.”

Slowly, she shifted in her spot, turning to see Din again. He’d replaced his helmet, the bowl empty on the ground beside him. 

“Thanks.”

The Mandalorian didn’t correct Cobb. She wasn’t sure what he would correct him with. They weren’t technically a crew. They weren’t technically a family. They were more than friends. Perhaps the best thing to say was nothing at all.

Cobb slowly slunk towards them, settling himself down on a boulder across the fire from Din. 

“I’ve given it some thought. The deal is too good for us to pass up. We lose the dragon. Our town can return to life as normal. And, we get an ally in the Tuskens, as strange as that would be.”

“All they’re asking is you keep the peace,” Din said. “Think you can manage that?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Then tomorrow, we’ll go back to Mos Pelgo and get prepared for a fight.”

Cobb flashed them a smile, nodding his head. He looked at the pot hanging over the fire. “Somethin’ smells real good.”

“Oh, you can have some,” Omera smiled back at him. “I managed to pull some soup together.”

“Anything beats the roast mystery critters we had last night. Much obliged, ma’am.”

As Cobb helped himself to the soup over the fire, Din suddenly rose to his feet and walked over to his speeder bike. He grabbed something from a satchel hanging off the side, obscured in the dark. When he returned to the fire, he knelt at Winta’s side and covered her sleeping body in a blanket. Omera smiled at the kindness of the act.

Din lingered for a second when he stood, his attention on the Child in Omera’s arms, and then he was back at her side, his shoulder brushing hers.

Omera looked at the Mandalorian, listening as the fire crackled, and found that he focused on her. 

They didn’t need to talk. She shifted closer to him and rested her cheek against the cool of his armor. Her gaze comfortably returned to the fire in front of them. Din’s fingers found her knee, as if it were his way of welcoming her intimacy.

“Do you want to help during the fight?” Din asked, his voice quiet.

Omera didn’t need to think about it. She was here to help Din on his path, and that path now included a fight with a krayt dragon. As scary as it was, she knew deep within her very soul that they would be capable, especially with the help of many.

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

The Mandalorian’s fingers flexed a little on her knee. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She smiled to herself, unable to help it. “Me too.”

-

With the Marshal of Mos Pelgo willing to try the plan that the Tuskens pulled together, they returned to the sleepy town with the intention of drafting an army composed of every townsperson. 

It wasn’t easy. There were some hard words and tense arguments. As they began to saddle up their banthas, a few of the townspeople fought with the Tuskens, but Cobb Vanth was quick to calm things. 

Hopefully, the tensions between the two groups wouldn’t be a sign of things to come.

When they arrived at the abandoned sarlacc pit for the second time, Omera and Winta helped the townspeople with their elaborate trap in the ground. There seemed to be a confidence that built over the course of the morning, as they crafted the trap that would ensnare the great krayt dragon.

When it came time for them to execute the plan, she retreated to the distant line at the back of the fight, where Din and Cobb Vanth were waiting with a few of the Tusken leaders.

With the Child in her arms and Winta at her side, Omera felt nervous. She hadn’t wanted to bring the children along, but Din promised that when it came time for the dragon to be baited, Winta and the Child would be tucked away, protected from the violence to come.

None of them imagined it would fail. In fact, there was no choice. They had to succeed.

Din approached her with a rifle in his hand. “We need you to shoot.”

Omera nodded once and took a deep, steadying breath. It was time for them to wake the dragon. She lowered the Child into Winta’s arms. 

“Go to the little alcove we found earlier. I’ll come for you when it’s safe. Don’t be afraid.”

Winta bobbed her head and was on her way, fast and easy, with no arguing. It was good, Omera thought, that she wasn’t any older, lest they have a fight over if she could stay and be part of the battle.

Omera took the weapon from Din, their fingers brushing ever so slightly during the pass. She didn’t like to shoot, but this was part of the agreement she’d made with herself when she decided to leave Sorgan to join Din. She would defend herself, and her children. 

“We’ll stay back here. Hopefully it doesn’t get too messy.”

The Mandalorian had planted the roots of confidence in the army gathered at the entrance of the abandoned sarlacc pit, but now, they would all have to work together to find victory in that confidence.

At first, the plan seemed to work. The dragon emerged, its roars angry, and it was eager to snack on a few of the Sand People that couldn’t move fast enough. Each life lost made Omera’s heart ache all the more. 

The Tuskens deployed their spear launchers, tethering the dragon to them by rope so that they could try and pull it towards them. It wasn’t an easy task.

The creature slithered in the sand closer to their charges, but not quite close enough to make the hit fatal. The Tuskens yelled in their language, clearly getting a little bit frustrated, and Din cursed aloud.

“Dank farrik, it’s going back in.”

The Tusken Raiders began screaming, frantic, and they all watched with bated breath as the dragon began to slink backwards, the rope of the launched spears popping free and dragging a few of the raiders back with the monster.

“It’s retreating.”

“I’m going to hit it,” Cobb Vanth said. He held in his hand the button that ignited the charges they’d set.

Omera’s eyes widened. “There’s only one shot. Don’t.”

“We’ve gotta get it out first,” Din agreed. 

Even though it was logical, Vanth gritted his teeth and shook his head at them. For now, he was complacent. 

The dragon seemed stagnant, lingering in a backwards-forwards shifting position. The townspeople began to throw explosives at it and a line of fighters fired their weapons. It noticed the people on the ground and slithered forward once, letting out a great roar.

This time, its jaws descended upon one of the people of Mos Pelgo.

“Now?” Cobb asked Din with a wavering tone.

“Not yet.” Din’s voice was level and calm. Practiced. He knew what would work. “It’s gotta come out further.”

Another deep-bellied roar. The Tuskens used their spear launchers a second time with zealousness, sending several into the beast’s head so they could pull it forward.

The body of the beast slithered forwards, roaring and moaning as it went, clearly trying to break free. One of the ropes snapped from the mechanism it had been tethered to, sending three Tuskens skyward, and the krayt dragon lifted its head out of the sand, roaring as if in warning to all of the offending fighters.

It dove forward, a sickly green bile spewing from its mouth onto the retreating army. 

“Almost. Almost.” Din kept a level head in the midst of what seemed to be a near failure. As soon as the beast settled onto the ground again, he shouted, “Now!”

The detonator beeped and the charges ignited, prompting the krayt dragon to let out a pained roar as it slithered down and backwards into the sand again. Silence. A great cloud of dust filled the air.

But it didn’t feel like a victory.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Vanth finally said.

“Me either,” Din agreed.

As if hearing the conversation, at the top of the mountain that towered above the entrance to the pit, the dragon sprung to life, lurching forward from the rocks, roaring at its enemies as they began to fire upon it with blasters. Then, more of the green acid spit from its mouth onto the group of innocents below.

Omera pulled the trigger of the rifle, aimed at the dangerous beast, but she was sure she did absolutely no good. It did seem that their explosion had caused it an injury, but in its annoyed state, it seemed more volatile.

“It’s picking us off like womp rats,” Vanth uttered. “Let’s get after it!” 

Rushing backwards, away from the mess of the battle, Omera focused on the creature in her sights and listened as the two men in armor took off by jet pack, soaring closer to the beast as it writhed in the rocks. They fired at it, but even at close range, their weapons seemed to do no damage.

The dragon lurched at them and the duo flew back onto the ground with the majority of their forces. As they did so, the creature disappeared, burrowing down through the rock, and for a few heart-stopping moments, they waited for it to reappear again.

When it did, it attacked the group from the side.

Omera watched through her scope as Vanth used his armor to release a missile at it. The explosion drew the dragon’s attention toward the group on the ground.

She saw Cobb pass Din the detonator. Then, he used the end of his gun to force Vanth’s jetpack to take off, launching him high above the ground in a cloud of smoke.

Slowly, the krayt dragon moved like a predator seeking out its prey. The townspeople fled, and so did she, scattering around with haste, but Din stood still. 

As she helped a fallen townsperson stand to their feet, Omera focused on Din, her eyes narrowing and her heart racing in her ears.

The Mandalorian stood in front of a bantha, who had more smarts than he did, struggling to get free and run far away from the dangerous dragon, but Din grabbed the rope, tugging at the creature to get it to stay put.

And then, it happened.

Omera’s eyes widened in disbelief when she watched Din get swallowed whole by the great dragon. Its teeth seemed all the sharper as its mouth descended upon the man she loved. 

Then, as if it hadn’t done anything at all, it disappeared into the sand.

Her breath caught in her lungs and she stopped breathing. The world felt absolutely silent and gone around her, even if the battle still raged on.

Feeling entirely numb, Omera stumbled backwards, unable to continue moving with the rest of the fleeing army. She instead watched the ground where the dragon had disappeared with a palm pressed to her rapidly beating heart to see if maybe, maybe Din had a plan. 

Maybe he hadn’t just run straight into the belly of a krayt dragon with an explosive bantha and no other thoughts in his head.

After a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, the ground began to shake. The dragon burst from the earth, releasing a roar of pain, and she saw Din soaring out of its mouth with his jet pack. 

In the next instant, there was an explosion that shook the entire valley, a violent shockwave emanating from the beast as it was torn apart from the energy of the detonation.

With a relieved gasp for air, Omera closed her eyes and allowed herself to smile. They had been successful. The dragon had been slain.

From his spot flying above the explosion, Din flew toward her, settling on the ground with ease.

She approached him swiftly, clamoring to touch him, as gross is it would be. He dripped with green fluid from the belly of the creature, but all she cared about was knowing that he was alive; that she could touch him and know he had survived. 

Her fingers settled on the braces of his forearms and she held on tight. She finally felt as if she could breathe easy again.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Din apologized instantly. “It was the only way.”

Omera shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

For a few seconds, they stared at one another, not saying anything at all. Her mind felt empty, but she was so full of gratitude and adrenaline-fueled joy that she almost wanted to admit to him that she loved him.

Reality settled in before she could do something so out of place. She pulled away from the Mandalorian and took a half step backward. 

“Let’s get the children,” Din said. “We should probably head back to the ship as soon as we can.”

Omera smiled. “Your son will be anxious to see you.”

When they approached the small alcove where Winta sat, cradling the Child tightly to her chest. Their eyes both lit up at the sight of them.

“Mama!”

Winta scrambled to her feet and eagerly handed the Child to his father before she wrapped Omera in a snug, tight hug.

“Are you alright, my love?” Omera asked, cradling the back of her head.

Winta nodded. Omera kissed the top of her daughter’s head and looked up in time to see the Child with his hands on Din’s helmet, cooing warmly as Din cradled him in the crook of his arm.

“Alright, alright,” Din mumbled. “You’re excited. I get it.”

Omera chuckled. Winta detached herself from her and went to Din. Her arms went around his waist, hugging him just as tight as she’d hugged Omera. He seemed surprised, but with a glance downwards, he put his hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” Winta asked him. 

“Yes. We defeated the dragon.”

Omera couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of Din with both of the children wrapped in his arms. Her heart felt impossibly full, somehow, after having very nearly broken just minutes ago.

“What will we do now?” Winta asked, her smile bright as she stepped away from the Mandalorian. 

“We’ll return to the ship,” Din said. “Keep looking for another of my kind.”

Winta nodded. “And we’ll go too?”

Omera and Din exchanged glances. She could tell that he was just as curious to know what she thought of the mission they’d found themselves on and if she wanted to continue on the path forward.

She’d been nervous that something like this would happen when she agreed to come with him. A near-death experience was likely in the daily agenda of a Mandalorian. Even so, she had faith, perhaps blind, that Din would take care of them, and that this journey would give them a tighter bond.

“Yes,” Omera agreed, “we’ll go too.”

Her daughter beamed up at her, then looked at Din. “Since we’re still going to be traveling together, what should I call you?”

The Mandalorian hesitated for a moment in silence, probably debating whether or not he wanted Winta to know his name. “You can call me Din.”

“Din,” Winta repeated. “Okay.”

“Don’t say it among strangers,” Omera said gently. “Out of respect.”

Winta bobbed her head with understanding and reached for Omera’s hand. 

Omera took a steadying breath. After the day they’d had, she felt tired and wished for a place to rest, but it was likely they wouldn’t have any rest for a while. 

Almost immediately, the Tuskens got to work carving up the fallen dragon in the sand. It smelled awful, but it was a relief to all that it was gone now. 

They offered them a hunk of meat from the dragon, thanking them for their part in the execution of the plan, and Din secured it to the back of his speeder bike.

Once they found Cobb Vanth, the man followed through on his end of the deal he’d made with the Mandalorian. He gave Din the armor with a smile, not one ounce of remorse in his features.

“This was well-earned.”

Din took the well-worn suit of armor and added it to his growing collection of gifts on the speeder. 

“It was my pleasure.”

Cobb turned to Omera and Winta. “Thank you for your help. Couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked at the Mandalorian for a moment. “I’ve never seen someone act so quick on their feet like this man here. You should be proud.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly, casting her gaze onto Din. “We all worked together. We should all be proud of what we accomplished today.”

With a bright grin, Cobb shook Din’s hand. “I hope our paths cross again, Mando.”

“As do I.” 

“You too, Omera.” Cobb winked. He took a few steps back, gesturing to the Mandalorian with a tilt of his head. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s nothin’ but trouble.”

Omera laughed. “I will.”

Once they were all settled on their speeder bikes, Omera gave Din a nod of approval and a smile that reflected the contentment she felt. 

They hadn’t found a Mandalorian on Tatooine, but instead, she had seen him lead the once divided valley into peace. How lucky was she that she could be on a journey with someone capable of accomplishing something like that? 

Din was ever so patient, waiting for her to give him the all-clear. “Ready to go?” 

Omera nodded again. She lifted her scarf from where it rested around her neck to cover her mouth. “We’ll follow your lead.”

[nctinfo]

[TRANS] Jungwoo, Mark & Haechan’s interview with Star1 June 2020 issue!

It's the first time for you three to do a shoot together. It's a different combination. Mark: It's really nice that the warm weather is seen in the pictures and it was fun to shoot with this fresh combination. Jungwoo: I really like it because it seems like the chemistry between us was well shown. Haechan: It's been a very long time since I had a shoot so I was a little nervous but on the other hand, also excited. I think I had a lot of fun because I was together with the hyungs.

You finished all the promotions for the 2nd full album <NCT#127 NeoZone>, how was it? Jungwoo: We were able to show NCT 127's color clearly through the title song 'Kick It'. All the side tracks had a very diverse feel too, and the promotion period was very meaningful because, matching with the 'NCT 127' name, it seemed to represent a new NCT 127 well in the aspects of music, choreography, stage composition, and so on. Mark: It was a comeback after a long time with a full album, so as much as the fans waited for it, we worked hard in the preparations to show many good sides. Of course, it was a shame we couldn't meet the fans on the music shows. Haechan: So, during the repackage promotion period, we will try various ways to communicate with the fans.

You also achieved some great things during these promotions, in particular, ranking no.5 on the Billboard 200 Mark: The last album ranked at no.11, and to see that it gradually improved to rank no.5, I was even more proud and happy. It gave me a great sense of achievement. I was as grateful and as happy as much as it was the result of the feeling loved and receiving attention from around the world.

Soon, you will be making a comeback with the repackage album < NeoZone: The Final Round>, what kind of song is the title song 'Punch'? Haechan: It's a very hip and strong song. Also, it has an ambiance of feeling like a different song due to some elements that are in the middle, so it's a fun song to listen to. Jungwoo: As much as it is a title song, I put my all in it. There were many changes made during the preparations, including the recording process. We worked hard to make it complete. Mark: As much as 'Kick It' was well received by the fans, I think 'Punch' will be as well and will deliver the finishing blow.

In addition to 'Punch', there are also other new side songs, how is it different compared to the 2nd full album [NeoZone]? Haechan: First off,  for the new songs on the repackage album, there is a new charming ballad song 'Make Your Day' and there is a song with a different feeling called 'NonStop'. You will be able to feel the diversity. Mark: That's right. 'Make Your Day' is a song where you will receive healing through the sweet voices of the vocal members. Jungwoo: It's a great song to listen to in the summer.

Then what is the key point of 'Punch'? Haechan: I think the chorus is the most memorable. It's repeated a lot, so I think it's nice when you listen to it excitingly. Jungwoo: I think 'Punch' [is the song with] the most killing parts. There are many parts that stick right to your ears. Please enjoy the killing part. Mark: Your ears might get hurt since it's addicting. haha

Is there something you want to show to the public through this album? Haechan: That I am really grateful for the support we received during 'Kick It' and that I was really happy. During the upcoming promotions too, I want to take that energy and show NCT 127's performance that will K.O. everyone. Of course, there are burdens when you receive great support, but regardless of the results, we are doing the best we can as always, so if you keep supporting us, we will show you our K.O. performance.

Was there ever a life changing "punch", if so when? Mark: As I was preparing for this song, I was reminded of the trainee days a lot. I was a trainee for almost three years, and I'm normally the type of person to beat myself down. I think that's when I threw [myself] the most “punches”. In order not to lose myself in front of the mirror I pushed myself and tried to overcome and grow. So while preparing for this song, I really related to it a lot. Jungwoo: I think it was during my debut for me. I was introduced for the first time during 'Boss'. I wanted to have an impact on many people so I really worked hard. When I think about it now, I didn't have to be so nervous, I was really worried. I am reminded of the time where I wanted to throw an impactful punch as big as I was nervous so I tried to double the effort.

What is a hot topic among NCT 127 lately? Mark: We're almost finished preparing for the repackage album, and all the members are working hard in perfecting the choreography. And we are also preparing for Beyond Live. Other than that, since the members are home a lot, we're getting into cooking more than ever (laughs). These days, Taeil hyung has really fallen for cooking. Once, when I returned home after practice, there was the smell of pasta coming from the dorm and it turns out that Taeil was making pasta by himself. I was even surprised at how delicious it was. haha

The world tour was also completed successfully Mark: It's hard to go overseas these days so I kinda miss it, and I often think about how nice it would be to tour soon again. It was a rare opportunity and a joyful journey. It's not easy to meet fans in person so it was a thing I'm really grateful for. It was also nice to eat a lot of delicious food with the members.

Is there a difference between preparing before the world tour and after? Mark: It's like, you know a lot after you've seen a lot. Aside from the stages, there were many things I felt. While meeting various cultures and people, our own team's unity has improved and our teamwork has gotten better too. There were a lot of physical challenges. Looking back after overcoming those hardships, all of them are beautiful memories. If you ask what's different or what has changed, it's that the teamwork has become better, and I think each member has gradually grown during the tour. Jungwoo: As expected personally, I think I grew a lot myself and it's true that I learned a lot while being on various stages. Instead of performing the same thing on each stage, I tried to change my facial expression and tried to change many things. Although we grew a lot as a team, I gained a lot of self-confidence too. To be honest, I was really nervous before leaving, but as I met a lot of fans from various countries I felt very grateful to be welcomed and supported. Haechan: My mindset has changed. Before I used to do a lot of things for 'the future'. After the world, I tend to focus on 'us'. We are working hard and having fun showing us and our way.  

NCT 127 members are all skilled in various areas. If you could steal a talent from each other, what would it be? Haechan: Jungwoo hyung’s innocence. Haha. When Jungwoo hyung’s ‘Pure Beauty’ shines, that's when I get envious. I think Mark hyung’s biggest asset is consistency. Doing anything consistently is a skill in my opinion, so I’m envious of this side of Mark hyung. Jungwoo: As for me, Mark’s dancing skills or English? Haha. Mark: I already told Jungwoo before, but he has this special aura about him. I’m just very thankful to have him next to me. It’s a precious thing. Haha. Even in a stiff situation he can elevate the mood. It’s not that I want to take it from him, it’s just that I like it when he’s next to me like that.

What are the unexpected sides of the members? Haechan: Mark hyung is consistently good at everything. The only thing he can't do is gaming. He is really bad at gaming. I don't think he has any talent for gaming. Jungwoo: Also, Mark is surprisingly delicate and detailed. There might be some people who already know, but he is more delicate than you can imagine. Haechan: Jungwoo looks innocent and seems quiet, but surprisingly he has many sturdy/bold sides. He is the type of person where those two sides coexist. Although he is still shy in front of the fans, when he feels comfortable, he is more active and energetic. That's his unexpected side.

To me, NCT 127 is? Haechan: It’s the foundation of my growth. When I was with hyungs I could see a lot of aspects where I was lacking, but because hyungs helped me so much I think I was able to grow. Jungwoo: I think we make each other shine. When someone is lacking the others fill in the gaps, when it’s hard we help each other, I think. Mark: I think we became a team that are friends and hyungs for life. I’m very thankful that we became like friends not just in NCT 127, but in everyday life. Jungwoo: Right. Us meeting seems like fate. Mark: We were all born and raised in different places, how else would we meet as a team like this.

As half of 2020 has passed, what are your goals both goals personally and as an artist? Haechan: I want to be busy and work hard in 2020. As an artist I’d like for it to be a year where I improve internally or work on my skills. Jungwoo: As a team I’d like for us to be introduced to more fans and grow a lot through performances. I’m also looking forward to see the results. I also wish this would be the year when I progress and take care of myself a lot. Mark: I want to play music for even more fans and I also want approval. Wherever we go I want to show performances without embarrassment, without seeming lame when I look back later, I always want to work hard. I hope the members become more proud of themselves as they should, and that we promote happily too. 

Translation: Esmee, Alex @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: Star1 Scans — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

[biaswreckingfics]

No Limits: Part 2

Author: biaswreckingfics

Genre: Mafia AU - Warnings? Everything that goes on in a Mafia AU

Word Count: 3.5k

Previous Chapter

Chanyeol stared at him as he spoke with a dull expression, and once Junmyeon finished speaking he says what they all secretly fear, “If the Baem has him, then he’s already dead.”

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

You knew it! You knew Sehun didn't die in that explosion. Brief relief swept through you at the thought of Sehun still being alive and it took all of your willpower to not bounce in your seat with happiness, but it was quickly crushed by Chanyeol's "he's already dead" attitude.

If the Baem had Sehun, then they had to act quickly before something really bad does happen. Giving up and thinking he was already dead wasn't going to help anyone, especially Sehun.

"While we're on the subject of the Baem..." Junmyeon trails off while looking at you. You knew where he was going with this by the way his eyes slightly narrowed.

Don't you fucking dare, Junmyeon, you angrily think, trying to shove the thought from your head to his.

"Now that we assume Sehun is still alive and most likely being held captive by the Baem, I don't want you to be involved in this anymore, Y/N. It's way more dangerous than we originally anticipated."

"Bullshit," You immediately counter, stealing yourself for the same argument the two of you always seem to have. "It was always dangerous. Nothing has changed. We wanted to destroy the Baem before and now we'll destroy them and get Sehun."

Junmyeon purses his lips before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "We don't have time for an argument. I don't want you involved. In fact, I don't even want you sitting at this table right now."

"I don't give a fuck what you want, Junmyeon. You're not the only one with a say. If the other EXO members don't want me involved, then fine, but all you're trying to do is play the big brother role that you're already a decade too late for," You snap at him.

Chanyeol snorts at your response before looking at Junmyeon and standing up from his lean against the wall. "And you tell me I need to get my shit together. How about following your own advice, leader."

As Chanyeol walks out of the room, the sad look on Junmyeon's face immediately makes you want to take back what you said, but you were so sick and tired of having this fight every couple of days that you couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Jun, but I'm not going to change my mind... I deserve the chance to avenge mom and dad and also get revenge for myself... and I'm not going to have this argument with you anymore."

Your brother held your stare as he thought out everything silently. He looked around the room at his men and took in their expressions before sighing.

"What do 'the other members of EXO' think?" He asks with a slight edge to his voice.

You inwardly cringe as you realize just how much your words had hurt your brother. That wasn't what you wanted. He was one of the last people you wanted to hurt, but his lack of faith in you hurt you also, so you would continue to stand your ground.

"When Jisoo and Minhyuk died, the Elders took away my right to avenge their deaths, and I still hate them for that to this day..." Baekhyun slowly starts as he stares at the table in front of him. The faded pain still clear in his voice until he shakes it off and looks up at your brother. "You were there with me, Junmyeon. You saw what that did to me. Do you want to do that to your sister?"

Your brother was clearly affected by Baekhyun's words as he thought back to that time. It showed in the way he tilted his head up toward the ceiling, closed his eyes, and clenched his jaw.

"She's already come really far in her training. If she keeps it up, I don't see any reason she shouldn't be involved," Jongin adds his opinion.

Junmyeon nods a little before looking back down at the members and sliding his chair back. "I'll take your opinions into consideration. Meeting dismissed."

You silently watch as he abruptly stands up from his chair and walks out of the room, not sending a single glance your way. When the rest of the members quietly get up and leave without a passing word to each other, you feel a small piece of your heart break.

When you first came here, the group was lively and rambunctious. There was laughter and noise all throughout the day and night, and the near silence that was now a constant in the compound was deafening.

You feel a sudden poke in your arm and look over at Baekhyun, who had apparently stayed behind with you. He searches your eyes trying to figure out what you're feeling.

"What's up?" He finally asks before placing his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin on his hand, waiting to hear your thoughts.

Sighing, you angle your body towards him and lean your head against the back of the seat, feeling completely comfortable with sharing your innermost thoughts with him. "I'm tired of everyone walking around on eggshells. How are they supposed to be a group when they can hardly even communicate?"

"When are you going to learn to not take on everyone else's problems?" He asks you softly.

"Probably never..."

He lets out a small laugh that causes your heart to flutter, and you stiffen. It didn't escape your notice that he was starting to affect you more and more, but you couldn't bring yourself to think about that right now. There was too much going on at the moment.

"How about, for now, you focus on kicking Jongin's ass in training? We'll worry about the rest later."

Sehun's POV

He had fallen into the soldier role well, and as it turns out, he was a quick learner.

The Baem had been giving him small tasks and testing out his abilities in all areas. They discovered he was apparently good with weapons and explosives. Like really good. Like Sehun almost scared himself good.

When the Baem discovered his talent, they kept him strictly with their weapons unit, and the more Sehun played around with things, the more small pieces of his memory came back.

He remembered how to handle wiring and how to build certain explosives, he remembered how to properly care for every gun he came across, and he was remembering other things as well... like his dislike for all the easy girls who were always around and throwing themselves at him. He remembered that he preferred classier girls who respected themselves, and for some reason when he thought of an example, you were the one that flashed into his mind.

All that did was cause him more confusion. Why were you the one that he thought of? Because he had recently seen you? It was just another thing to add to his growing list of questions, and with the memories he gained, that list was getting quite long.

Something else he thought was odd was the fact that he didn't recognize any of his members. As the other things started coming back, he thought memories about his members would come back too, but they weren't. These men still felt completely foreign to him.

On top of that, they consistently kept asking him questions about EXO, and it was really starting to fucking irritate him. How many times did he have to say he couldn't remember? He understood they were their rivals, but they never even asked him questions about the Baem, just EXO.

It almost seemed like they were testing him, but why?

Y/N's POV

It had been a few days since the meeting, and it seemed like the tension in the house had gotten even worse. It felt like you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop, like whatever was holding the last of you together was going to break any day now.

It was almost like everyone was backtracking instead of trying to move on and heal, and things with your brother had not been good at all. Neither of you had attempted any communication since your last argument. Junmyeon would often lock himself in his office and would hardly come out, and you tried to hang out in your room a lot because you were just tired. Tired of all of it.

A quick knock sounded on your door before Jongin peeked in. "Time for training, let's go."

You sigh at the thought of another day of having your ass handed to you, but jump up from your bed and follow him down the hall because you knew this would be the perfect opportunity to ask him about one of the many things that had been on your mind lately.

"Okay, fine, but I want to talk on the way."

Now it was Jongin's turn to sigh because he knew exactly what you wanted to talk about. Minseok.

"I don't regret killing Minseok's father." He immediately says, causing you to slow down your steps and look over at him while he continued. "I'm glad I was the one to do it."

"I wasn't going to ask that..." You slowly say, now completely stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I just wanted to know if the two of you will be okay..."

Jongin awkwardly comes to a stop beside you. "...Oh..."

"What's on your mind, Jongin?"

He turns to face you and searches your eyes almost with a slight panic. "I think there's something wrong with me..."

Your heart jumps a little at his words and how his entire demeanor crumbled before you. The way he broke eye contact and swallowed while looking down the hallway immediately put you on edge.

You knew Jongin was holding in a lot of emotions. He didn't often like to be perceived as "weak" no matter how many times you told him emotions didn't make him weak. Instead, he liked to drown his sadness and pain in girls and alcohol, but you wanted to try to find a way to help him past that, and right now, Jongin was giving you an unusual glimpse into his vulnerability.

"Why do you say that?"

"...Because I felt happiness when I killed him. Relief... You're not supposed to feel happy when you end someone's life, and it's not the first time. I felt the same way about my stepdad."

Everything Jongin was saying made sense. In a normal world, killing people was a horrific, atrocious thing, but in the mafia world... nobody was really a "good guy". They all did horrible things, and no, you weren't trying to justify murder. You knew things weren't so black and white, but those two were bad men.

"Jongin, they were shit people who did horrible things, it's not wrong to feel relief that they're gone." You tell him, but the look of doubt is clear on his face. "I don't think anything is wrong with you... I'd be happy if I were in your position too."

He raises his eyebrows at your statement before saying, "Maybe there's something wrong with you too."

His words cause you to pause in thought until you finally shrug, "Well, then we'll be fucked up together."

He shakes his head at you, but a small smile does find its way onto his face, and that was literally all you cared about at the moment.

As the two of you start to walk down to the training room again, he asks, "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Are you avoiding Minseok because of what you just told me?"

He avoids looking at you and continues quietly walking down the hallway for a moment before answering. "Partly... I thought it'd be good to give him space. I took away his last living parent... How can you forgive someone for that?"

You couldn't respond to his question, because you didn't know the answer yourself. Would you be able to forgive Jongin if you were in Minseok's position? It was hard to put yourself in those shoes because you knew, one way or another, Minseok's father was never going to leave that room. Whether it be by Jongin's hand, your brother's, or your own.

All you knew was that it was something the two of them would have to work out themselves, and you were worried about what would happen if they let this go on for too long. "You need to talk to him before it's too late..."

He thinks about your words for the rest of the walk but remains silent until the two of you walk into the training room, where your eyes immediately find Baekhyun waiting there. You would be lying if you said a thrill didn't go through your entire body at the sight of him.

"Are you joining us today?" Jongin asks with clear amusement.

You're silent as you watch Baekhyun walk up to the two of you with a swagger you've only ever seen him pull off. You shake your head at the thought, immediately annoyed with yourself for thinking someone's walk was sexy.

"Oh, I'll be here every day until she kicks your ass," Baekhyun replies with a smirk that you force yourself to ignore.

His words and belief in you, however, gave you the motivation you needed to train, and for the next hour, the three of you warm-up and take turns sparring with each other. You could feel yourself getting stronger, compared to how you were before the training started, and the thought made you giddy with adrenaline. You were becoming a badass person, and damn, it was exciting.

"Kai hyung," A voice calls from the entrance of the training room, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's an issue at the club."

Jongin drops his fighting stance and sighs as he looks over at the younger man who you have never seen before. "Which one?"

"The one we just acquired, sir."

Jongin swore before following the younger man out of the training room. You turn to Baekhyun in confusion.

"Who was that, and what club is he talking about?"

"Someone in Jongin's unit," He answers while slowly circling you, "They just bought a ...gentleman's club."

You turn your body with him as he watches your movements, looking for a place to attack, but your mind was already elsewhere.

"You guys own strip clubs too?"

"We dabble in a little bit of everything. Casinos, dealerships, strip clubs... Why do you sound so surprised?"

Why were you surprised? Jongin was one of the most sexual beings you knew. It made perfect sense for him to run the strip clubs.

Suddenly, you feel a jab in your left arm as Baekhyun takes a hit at you and circles around behind you. You quickly turn and catch the smirk still on his face.

He raises an eyebrow at the taken aback look on your face and asks, "You thought you were done training because your teacher left?"

Your throat suddenly dries up at the sight of him. The raised eyebrow, the smirk, his sweaty naked torso, his eyes as they looked over your body, searching for a hint of your next move. It was a sensation overload. Pair that with the previous conversation of strip clubs, and your mind almost went blank.

Focus. You needed to focus. Forget about the stupidly attractive, oddly caring guy in front of you and put your opponent on his fucking ass.

You studied his movements for a moment, the way his body leaned, and the direction his feet were facing before making your move.

You tried to make all of your movements seamless and fast, but Baekhyun was still able to track them and quickly blocked the punch you threw at him. Your next thought was to aim a high kick toward his side, but he caught your leg mid-air and held it still.

You hopped around as you tried to balance on one foot and met his stare. You were shocked to find heat in his gaze, and suddenly, the position you were in seemed way too intimate for sparring.

"Can I have my leg back?" You breathlessly ask.

Baekhyun slowly looks down at your leg, like he didn't even realize he still held it, before quickly dropping it, shaking his arms out, and rolling his neck around.

The two of you backed away and sized each other up. You had yet to take Baekhyun down, and suddenly, you were very determined to do it tonight. The tension in your body would only be settled when one of you was on your back.

He takes a step toward you, and you step back in response, maintaining the same distance between you, and when he brings his arm back to strike, you dodge. Unfortunately, you were too late to realize it was a trick, and his leg was able to snake out and swipe you off your feet.

The panic came, just like it always did when you fell, and you grab his arm in a death grip on your way down. His body, not expecting the extra weight of another person, gave out, and he landed directly on top of you.

You both let out a small noise as your bodies smack into each other and then lay there for a second as you both try to figure out what just happened. Finally, the situation registers in your mind. Byun Baekhyun, a member of the deadly EXO and the guy you were stupidly attracted to, was laying on top of you.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you knew he could feel it because you could feel his beating erratically too. Both of you were already breathing heavily from the sparring, but the way his body molded around yours almost stole all your breath entirely. You could feel the strength of his body against the softness of yours, and it sent your mind into a wild frenzy.

As he leans his weight onto one of his arms so he wouldn't crush you, you search his eyes and let out a small gasp when you see the hunger in them. The noise draws his eyes down to your lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own.

His gaze bounces between yours and your lips, searching for something, an answer or permission maybe, before he slowly lowers his head and claims your lips with his own. It was gentle and light at first, and the softness of his lips causes your remaining breath to disappear, but when you open your mouth and let him in, the kiss quickly turns more passionate.

His kiss sent an explosion of bright, colorful lights through your head, and it was enough to make you dizzy. His tongue slid into your mouth and quickly began teasing yours, and you couldn't get enough of it.  You tilt your head to the side, and he quickly deepens the kiss as his free hand slowly slides down the side of your body.

Everything felt right all of a sudden. Kissing Baekhyun made you feel like everything would be okay in the end. It made you feel like your head was going to explode, but you welcomed it because if this was how you were going out, you had absolutely zero complaints.

After a while, he slowly pulls away, but not before leaving one more soft kiss on your tingling lips. You gradually open your eyes, and the two of you stare at each other in amazement. You were never the romantic or fairy tale type of girl, and you never believed that people were made for each other, but with Baekhyun, you wanted to be.

A noise across the room breaks the spell the two of you had fallen under and the mumbled words of an apology have both of your eyes widening.

The two of you look over at the source of the noise and see a flustered young man still apologizing and looking everywhere but at the two of you. You had no idea who he was, but you assumed he was another member in one of the guys' units.

The thought was confirmed when Baekhyun quickly scrambles off of you. You search his face to get an idea of how he's feeling, and a small flash of hurt and confusion goes through you when you see the spooked out look on it.

Was he worried about the younger man telling someone? Your brother, maybe? Was it something else entirely? Did he... did he regret kissing you?

Before you could get any of these questions out, Baekhyun excuses himself and quickly takes off toward the exit, leaving you laying there all alone.

Tagging: @knjkitten @kpopserene @multifandombxxch @tashaxvamp @kpop---scenarios @bhyunni @chanyeolismybaby @flaming-laboob @taetaeeyong @lilbitoflyssa @misstressporkchoppp @hoseok-wang @spiltkpop @isha454 @depuis2mille @marovekian1 @ladylynae @abby8451 @lynniev @insta1010 @sawadabegum @avxngxrrogxrs @equesasprokishi @imstuckinafictionaluniverse @layisanangel @mongryong-the-corgi @overthelamebowz​ @lizbether01 @thatanonymousgirl-as14​ @nothingbutadeadesceane​ @kim-ji-hyeons-world​ @suhappysuho​ @futuremrspcy​

[babbushka]

Mind & Soul (6/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader

6.8k ; Warnings for angst, mentions of stitches (but there’s some sweet family fluff in here too don’t worry lol)

Tumblr masterlist for previous chapters // Available on AO3

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

Time after time I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

So lucky to be

The one you run to see

In the evening when the day is through

 Charlie thinks that if he never steps inside a courtroom ever again, it’ll be too soon.

He’s sitting on his side, and Nicole is sitting on hers, between them are asshole lawyers that Charlie knows he can’t trust. He can’t, and yet he has to, has to trust that this jerk will say the right things, do the right things, to help him win. He doesn’t think he’s winning, but he just has to trust.

He doesn’t trust anyone but you.

Charlie is sitting on his side, and Nicole is sitting on hers, and you’re up at the witness stand. It’s surreal to have you there, he thinks. Surreal to see you dressed so nicely for court.

If he thinks about it, he knows that you go to really important meetings, he knows you need to dress up for pitch presentations, he knows. But he’s only ever seen you casual, only ever seen you undone. There’s something delicious, about seeing someone so casual, be so dressed up. You’re in a very smart suit, you look more put together than Nicole does. Charlie wonders what that says about her, if it says anything at all.

He doesn’t bother to look at her and gauge her reaction to the way you swear to tell nothing but the truth, although he can imagine the sharp betrayal she must be feeling. Good, he thinks, let her be betrayed, let her have a taste of her own medicine.

He doesn’t bother to look at her, not when his eyes are glued to you.

“Please state your name.” Charlie’s new lawyer, Jay approaches the stand, begins his examination of your testimony.

“(Y/F/N), (Y/L/N).” You say easily, meeting his gaze evenly.

“Ms. (L/N), why are you here?” He asks, formalities, protocol.

“I’m here to act as a character witness, on behalf of Mr. Barber.” You reply, and if Charlie listens he can probably hear Nicole’s jaw clenching.

Once upon a time, you and Nicole had been friends. Not nearly as friendly as you had been with him, but still. Friends. And now here you are, siding with him.

“And why should we take your recommendation of Mr. Barber’s character into consideration at all?” Jay shrugs, crosses his arms as if he’s showing the judge that he won’t go easy on you just because you’re on his side.

“The Barbers moved into the house next door to mine, and over the course of the two years they lived there I acted as a baby-sitter for their son, Henry.” You explain.

Somewhere in the background, the stenographer types away, her nails clicking on a keyboard that doesn’t make any sense to Charlie. He’s laser focused on you, tries not to think about those two years, tries even harder not to think about how he spent half that time fucking you.

He knows the judge can’t read minds, but sometimes the way the judge looks at Charlie says otherwise.

“So it could be said that you were privy to observing the Barber’s family life.” Jay asks, and you have a little knowing smile that quirks up the corners of your mouth.

Charlie sweats, watching you up on the stand, tries not to think about just how privy you were, tries not to sweat.

“I wouldn’t say observing in any conscious sense, but yes. When you live next door to someone you become friendly with them. Certainly when you become their babysitter, you become friendly with the child.” You smile coolly, innocently, genuinely.

And that was the big thing, wasn’t it? That you were genuine, always, in all things. That’s what had drawn him to you initially, that sincerity. As a friend, as a babysitter, and as a lover.

“Who asked you to babysit?” Jay asked, because this was really the most credible part about your testimony, the babysitting.

“Mr. Barber, I only ever really spoke to Mrs. Barber in social settings.” You replied honestly.

“Did Mrs. Barber speak of Henry often, in those social settings?” Jay asks, the leading questions already beginning.

“Objection your honor, leading the witness.” Nora, Nicole’s bitch of a lawyer stands up then.

“Sustained, the witness is to provide testimony on Mr. Barber, not Mrs.” The judge nods, making Nora sit down with a smile.

“Alright, then did Mr. Barber speak of Henry, outside of the conversations where he asked you to babysit?” Jay asks, and you nod quickly.

“Yes, very much so. We spoke about a lot of things, you know. But he was always very very proud of Henry. He would pull out his phone and show me pictures, of Henry or drawings that he made, that sort of thing. He was always a very proud father.” You reply.

“How frequently did you babysit for the Barbers?” Jay asks, just trying to form a narrative. Charlie knows this, but if he thinks about it, if he thinks of all the times he’s asked you to watch Henry simply so that he can come over to your house and steal a kiss or two (or twenty) upon picking him up, if he thinks too loudly then the judge will hear.

“About once a week, on nights where rehearsals were running late at the theater company, or they knew they’d be in meetings, that sort of thing. The odd party now and again.” You brush it off as if it were nothing.

But it isn’t nothing, it isn’t.

“Once a week is fairly often, I imagine you grew quite close to Henry.” Jay prompts.

“Oh yes, I like to think he trusts me. He’s so bright, that boy, and he picks up on a lot, you know? Sometimes if Mr. and Mrs. Barber had a fight, he’d find some subtle way to ask why grownups have to be mean to each other. Or when Mr. Barber was told to sleep on the couch a couple months before Nicole left, he would ask why parents don’t always sleep in the same bed.” You say pointedly, trying to make the point that she left. She left.

“Did Mr. and Mrs. Barber have fights often?” Jay asks, as if this is new knowledge to him.

“Through the entire time I knew them, yes. They fought often.” You nod, chewing your lip.

“Did any of these fights turn physical?” Jay asks, but your eyes widen at the thought, at the implication that Charlie would do anything like that.

“No, not to my knowledge. Just, raised voices. I mostly heard Mrs. Barber yelling, when the fights would happen. There was a lot of yelling at Mr. Barber.” You say and you fidget with your hands for a moment, before continuing, “I try not to listen but, the houses are so close and sometimes the fights would be very late, so the sound wasn’t drowned out by the traffic.”

“Ms. (L/N), what can you tell us about Mr. Barber, his character.” Jay says, wanting to get to the point. “It’s clear that you’re someone around him, around his child. It’s clear that you’ve seen the way he interacts with his family. If you were to make a judgement call, how would you describe him?”

“Mr. Barber is a very hardworking man. He’s the type of person who remembers to take care of everyone that depends on him, he remembers things about the people who depend on him, and even about the people who don’t. He is the kind of father you wish every child has – compassionate and playful, but strict in the right ways.” You say, try to keep it as much to the point as possible. 

“He is well respected in the community, is active in both the theater sphere as well as locally. I’ve never seen him lash out or become violent, in all honesty I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell in an angry way. His son loves him very much.”

You look right at Charlie when you say that last part, and Charlie has to look away, because he can’t help but feel the tight ache in his chest at the mention of Henry’s love, not now. Not when there’s such a possibility of losing him that he can nearly hear the goodbyes.

“No further questions, your honor.”  Jay says, before returning to his seat next to Charlie.

Nora stands up then, and Charlie nearly wants to hold his breath, but you don’t. You look at her evenly, and Charlie thinks you’re so brave for that, that’s not something he’s still managed to do.

“Ms. (L/N) this is all well and good, but I’d like to bring up the fact that a primary reason that you are here, is because on the night of a home-visit by the state-sanctioned case worker to observe Mr. Barber and his son, you were present.” She says, as if this is a bad thing, as if you’re breaking some sort of rule.

“Yes, I was.” You reply, your shoulders square and your chin raised.

Because, yes, you were.

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

The next day felt like a blur, to Charlie. He woke up with you by his side, kissed you for what felt like an eternity before the alarm even had a chance to ring. He held you in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, woke up with a smile on his face.

He asked you to stay in bed while he went down and made breakfast for Henry, got him dressed and ready for school, and when he came back home from dropping him off, you were still there.

He had hoped that you’d let him crawl back into bed, settle himself against your naked body, let him have a drink of the sweet wine that spilled forth from your lips. But you only eyed his arm, the cut which stung, which needed proper stitches.

So to the hospital you had went, and stitches he had gotten, and after a normal amount of painkillers he had fallen back asleep with his head next to yours on the pillow, dreams a swirling mess of colors and sounds.

He doesn’t remember what they are, when he wakes up. It’s late, in the afternoon, he can tell. Can tell by how rich the sunlight is coming through the window. Maybe it’s three o’clock, he doesn’t know, he can’t see the numbers right now, eyes half-closed still.

You come into the room gently, upon hearing him rustling. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, as he carefully opens his arms for you, groggy and yet still so pleased to see you.

“You’re still here.” He says. He’s not so sure that he hadn’t dreamt your being there, the pain medication addling his system just a little.

“Mhm,” You smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and teasing, “Good morning.”

You reach a hand out and softly brush your knuckles against his cheek. Charlie grasps your hand and gives it a little tug, pulls you down down down until your noses are touching, until he’s nearly smiling against your mouth.

“Can I kiss you a little?” He asks, and your smile lights up his entire world, when you flash your pretty teeth at him.

“Yeah, but then you’ve got to go pick up Henry from school. They’ll freak out if you’re late, it won’t look good for you.” You whisper, rubbing your lips over his, the ghost of a kiss, the ghost of a touch.

“I know, will you come with?” He chases you, careful of the stitches in his arm as he maneuvers you onto your side, on top of the covers.

“Nah, I’m going to stay here, I’ve got to get the most kick-ass dinner made for tonight.” You smile again, and Charlie lets his eyes close in gratitude as your mouth opens for him.

Kissing you is almost as intoxicating, as dangerous as the painkillers. They’re out of his system now, he can feel it from the twinge in his arm, the sting of it. But he doesn’t need them, not when your tongue is so hot against his, not when your hands roam over the width of his body. He wants to have sex with you, but there’s no time today, not right now.

That’s alright, he thinks. Soon this will be over, and you two can have all the sex you’d like. He huffs out a little laugh, post-dream-glow starting to fade only to be replaced with the euphoria of kissing you.

“You’re literally a life-saver, you know that?” He grumbles against your lips as he stretches the sleep from his calves. His nap is over, he knows, he’s got to go get Henry, he knows. But he doesn’t want to leave your side, not right now.

He never knows when the next time he might get you will be.

“I do, but tell me anyway.” You smirk just a little, before sitting up once again, detangling yourself from him. You give his cheek a playful little pat and attempt to lure him out of bed with your body and, “Come on, you’ve had your kisses.”

Charlie sits up too, and for the first time really takes in the sight of the bedroom around him. The last time he was here, it hadn’t even had a bed. Now it was fully furnished to his tastes, and he remembers, he knows you’re the one who did that.

“Do you like it?” Charlie thinks aloud, abruptly.

“What honey?” You ask, rifling through the closet, tossing some clothes onto the end of the bed for him.

“The house.” He says nervously, palms gone clammy for a minute. “You know, do you think it’s nice?”

He hopes you do, hopes Henry does.

Hopes the social workers does.

Hopes the judge does.

But most importantly, he hopes you do.

“It’s a gorgeous home, Charlie. I was impressed even when it was empty, but you know that.” You reply.

And of course he knows that, because you were there with him when he bought it, the house. You were the one who helped him look for a month, when Nicole had made her grand return and served him the papers. They had to sell the house, he needed a new one, and you had helped him find this place.

“I bought it for you, for us.” Charlie says, and he doesn’t know if it’s the way he can just be so himself around you, or maybe it’s the fear of rejection that makes him so overly casual about it, he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t look at you when he buttons on a crisp white shirt, “I was hoping, after all of this, you and me and Henry…we could all live here. If it works out that way.”

“Do you really mean that?” You ask quietly, stunned.

“I really do.” Charlie swallows around his nerves, immediately rushing to say, “But I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you to do it or anything – ”

“You’re not being pushy.” You shake your head, sitting down on the edge of the bed, lightly picking at nothing on the comforter before admitting, “I’d really love that. I’ve sort of, well. I’ve selfishly started thinking of this as my house too.”

“What will you do about your house in the old neighborhood?” Charlie tries tries tries not to jump and scream and shout with joy, tries to keep it cool, tries to keep himself rational. “I don’t want you to uproot yourself.”

“I’ve been thinking about selling it for a long time, to be honest.” You smile sadly.

“Really?” He frowns, the very thought of you being too far away making him nervous, worried.

“Yeah, I’ve sort of outgrown it.” You shrug, blinking away tears of relief at Charlie’s want of you, “I wasn’t thinking of moving far away or anything! But just into a bigger space, a blank canvas. Somewhere with an office. I’m so tired of working at the dining room.”

“There’s space here, you could have an office here.” Charlie says, tucking his shirt into freshly ironed pants.

“I could.” You say with a smile, you ironed those pants.

“I love you.” Charlie says, simply because he has to.

“I love you too.” You reply, because you can. And then, when Charlie’s all dressed, you lean in for one more kiss, one that Charlie lets himself get lost in, before you pull away with a devious smile and a, “Go get Henry.”

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

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

 You’re in a damn good mood, in the kitchen. There’s music playing off the bluetooth speaker, volume turned up high enough that it fills the whole house as you cook up a storm. While Charlie had napped off the pain from his stitches, you’d browsed the internet for the most impressive recipes you could think of.

Nothing too flashy, nothing that says you were trying too hard, but definitely something nicer than a simple box meal, or something. You wanted this social worker to see how well cared for Henry was, home cooked meals and maybe if he’s good, there’s a chocolate cake you need to frost cooling by the oven.

You whistle along to bright jazz, trumpets and saxophones harmonizing with the sizzle snap crackle pop of spices and vegetables in the skillet, fat rendering away into thick sauces for this grand dinner.

You’re wearing a nice outfit, made sure Charlie had been dressed nice too. You knew how important this was for him, you knew how important it was to come across as put together as possible. Henry had a good thing going here, you needed to prove to her. He had a huge house, all his toys. Friends from school could come over and play in the backyard, you and Charlie would be there to make them all food the way that you did when Nicole was gone and away for those six months.  

This wasn’t about you, you shake the thought from your head. No matter how idyllic of a picture it painted, you knew you were here to help make the case for Charlie, for Henry. You loved them both so deeply, cared about them so much, you had to help. You can think about being a family together again after Charlie wins the case, after Charlie is told he can officially keep his son.

Because isn’t that what you had become, a family?

The kitchen smells incredible, and you’re thanking the insanely long recipe for that, thanking the random food blogger you had stumbled upon.

You add a pinch more salt, before wiping your hands down on the kitchen towel that’s slung over your shoulder the way Charlie tends to do. The music is loud and happy, and you’re in a good mood – until you hear the doorbell ring.

Shit! You think to yourself, casting a glance to the clock above the oven. It’s only four o’clock, you hadn’t been expecting anyone until five at the earliest. You scramble to get yourself presentable, calling out, “Just a second!”

You make sure that the stove is set low enough that nothing burns in the few minutes that you need to step away from it, slipping your feet into short heeled house shoes, smoothing down your hair. You make your way through the big gorgeous house and open the door, smiling at a woman in a nice grey pant-suit.

“Hello, my name is Katherine Gonzales, is this the residence of Mr. Charlie Barber?” The social worker checks her clipboard, clearly surprised that you’re there.

“It is! Please forgive me, we weren’t anticipating you until a little later, Charlie’s just picking Henry up from school now.” You offer her a hand to shake and a warm smile, “My name is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), please come in, make yourself comfortable.”

You stand to the side and she steps into the house, you close the door behind her. You wince, the music is still so loud, and you quickly pull out your phone to try and lower the volume. You hope you don’t look as frazzled as you feel, as you walk her back to the kitchen.

“Ms. (L/N) – ” Katherine starts, but you laugh good-naturedly.

“Please, call me (Y/N).” You ask, halfway wanting to make that old Ms. L/N was my mother, joke, but thinking better of it.

“Of course, (Y/N).” Katherine corrects herself, standing kind of awkwardly in the kitchen. “Pardon my bluntness, but I wasn’t aware you’d be part of the evening.”

“I’m very sorry, it was a last minute decision. Henry asked that I be here, and well.” You assumed your spot by the stove, giving the stir-fry a nice zhuzh so the vegetables don’t get too charred. “I didn’t think it’d be fair to say no to him, during all this.”

“I understand. And are you and Mr. Barber…?” Katherine prompts, making your heart flutter.

“Oh just friends.” You lie easily. It was an easy lie to make of course, you’d made it a thousand times over the course of a year and a half, “I used to live next door before he moved into this house. Ever since the separation, I’ve been helping out. It takes a village, and all that.”

“That it does.” Katherine concedes, looking around the house.

She’s got a great poker face, if she’s impressed you can’t tell. But how could someone not be? With the open floor plan and high vaulted ceilings, the chandeliers, the tall wide windows that let the light spill in beautifully?

“Can I offer you anything to drink? Really I’m so sorry, they should be here any minute.” You say, checking the clock again.

“If you had any bottled water?” Katherine smiles apologetically but you nod happily, go over to the fridge.

“I’m afraid I’ve only got sparkling, is that alright?” You pull out a bottle of Perrier, and thankfully, she’s the kind of person who drinks that sort of thing.

“Yes of course.” She accepts it with a, “Thank you. Do you cook dinner for Charlie and Henry often?”

You smile about the thought, about cooking for them. The truth of the matter was yes, you did. For six months you all cooked together, ate dinners together nearly every day. In many ways, this felt like falling back into the old routine, the comfort of familiarity making you smile some more.

“Sometimes, yeah. I work from home, this house is only ten minutes away from their old house where I live, so it’s easy for me to help out.” You try to appear as only a good friend, nothing more. You wouldn’t do that to Charlie, you think, you wouldn’t compromise this with your own musings. The timer dings then, and you happily pull out an appetizer from the oven, transferring it to a serving platter on the island. “Here, please have whatever you’d like.”

“I already ate, really I’m fine.” Katherine says out of politeness, but you see right through her.

“Oh but I made it special.” You frown, looking at the beautifully crispy bubbly cheesey dip.

“Well if you insist.” Katherine smiles, and you smile, and you think that maybe she’s only so severe because she has to be, maybe you’ll be okay, maybe you’ll get through this and on the other side there’ll be some positive news.

Katherine has had exactly three tortilla chips when the front door opens and the comforting peace of the kitchen is disrupted by the loud sounds of laughter.

“Ha! I win!” Henry is out of breath from it, bright belly laughs that immediately bring a smile to your face.

“Oh no you don’t -- !” You hear Charlie reply, and then some sort of playful scuffle.

“That must be them, they always race to the front door.” You explain to Katherine who is already writing down stuff on her clipboard, already making notes.

“Hey something smells good.” Henry bounds into the kitchen, throws his arms around your middle for a hug and a, “Hi (Y/N)!”

“Heyheyhey, shoes off.” Charlie calls after him by the front door, his voice stern yet kind. You can imagine him running a hand through his hair, toeing out of his own sneakers.

Henry gives you an exaggerated look that’s got you stifling a laugh as he steps out of his shoes and runs them back to the front door in just his socks, before coming back into the kitchen.

“Hi kiddo, how was school today?” You greet him properly as you let him peer into the skillet for what they’re having.

“It was good – hi, I’m Henry.” He takes notice of the social worker finally, offers her a hand to shake in the way that you know he must’ve learned from Charlie.

“Hi Henry nice to meet you, don’t mind me I’ll just be over here.” Katherine takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

Kids always had a funny way of showing their manners, you think as Henry does just ignore her and turn back to you immediately upon the permission to do so.

“I was asking dad if I could enter the science fair this year, would you help me?” He asks, eyes wide. His hair is getting long, you think, because he keeps blowing it out from his eyes.

“Science fair huh? What sort of experiment are we thinking?” You ask happily, tending to dinner.

“Something with legos, dad says there’s tons of stuff to do with them.” Henry goes to the fridge and gets water from the filter, chugs it down. You smile and shake your head, they really must have ran ran to the door this time.

“Why don’t you go set the table and we talk about it while we eat.” Charlie hints as he comes into the kitchen, looking handsome as all hell. He too shakes the social worker’s hand, voice warm when he greets her. “Hello, pleasure to meet you.”

“Katherine Gonzales, you must finally be Mr. Barber.” Katherine smiles, and Charlie winces.

“I’m sorry, if I had known you’d be here earlier I’d’ve – ” He starts, but Katherine only waves it away.

“Not to worry. (Y/N) was keeping me company.” She says kindly, before taking her purse and clipboard. “But really, just go about your business as usual. I’ve got to just do a little walk through of the place before dinner, you won’t know I’m here.”

Charlie nods, and when Katherine is out of sight, he sidles up next to you, wraps his arms around you from behind for a moment. He steals the softest kiss against your cheek before stepping away and asking, “How can I help?”

“Nah there’s nothing to do, why don’t you and Henry go wash up?” You ask after him, “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Stings but I’m okay.” He swoops down for one more secret kiss that has you laughing, has you pushing him off of you playfully in case Katherine comes back and sees. He grins, is in a good mood as he claps his hands together and goes into the dining room, “Henry! Great job honey, come on we need to wash our hands otherwise we’ll get sick, let’s go.”

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

Later, when everyone is washed up and dinner is served, the three of you sit at the dining table. Charlie, being big man of the house and all, sits at the head, with you and Henry on either side. You don’t know where Katherine has gone, but you know she must be close by watching, listening. You and Charlie had both been worried that maybe Henry would act differently, or strangely with her being there, but it seems as though he’s already forgotten about her.

Or at least, for the moment.

“Alright so tell me about this science fair.” You smile as Henry serves himself a big helping of potatoes.

“Um, I know what I want to do but I’m worried about it and messing it up so I was wondering if you and dad would help me.” He says apprehensively, and you frown.

“Why worried, because of the reading?” You ask softly, not wanting to upset him.

“Yeah.” Henry sighs, pushing a fingerling potato around on his plate.

“Has someone been giving you trouble about it?” Charlie frowns now too, concerned, wondering why Henry didn’t say anything earlier.

“There’s this girl, Jenny Henderson. She was making fun of me in the library today during media.” Henry explained, and you and Charlie immediately look at one another.

“Is Jenny in your class?” Charlie asks, jaw clenching, already wanting to get up and call the teacher, wanting to call someone.

“No, she’s in the gifted class.” Henry shakes his head, takes a big sip of water.

“Was she saying anything to you or just…?” You prompt gently.

“She pointed and laughed to her friends.” Henry looks at you, and then at Charlie, and then back down at his plate, voice very small when he says, “And then her friends laughed. She called me dumb.”

Charlie puts down his silverware with enough seriousness that Henry looks up at him with wet eyes.

“You are not dumb. Everyone learns at their own pace, and everything has their own strengths. So what if Jenny Henderson can read more advanced books? That doesn’t make her better than you. And in fact, because she made you feel bad about it, means that she’s definitely not better than you.” Charlie goes to get up, puts his napkin on the table. “I’m going to call up the school and – ”

“No!” Henry says suddenly, “No don’t, that’ll only make things worse.”

You and Charlie look at each other, torn with what to do.

“Honey we aren’t going to sit by and do nothing. She needs to know that there are consequences for her actions. People aren’t allowed to make others feel bad like that.” You say, and remembering how often kids made you feel like garbage at school, knowing Charlie must remember it too. You don’t want that for him, neither of you do.

“But what if she gets mad?” Henry asks sadly.

“Then you tell me, and I’ll handle it, okay?” Charlie says seriously, wanting his son to know that he’ll always be there for him. Charlie sits back down, puts the napkin back on his lap, picks up his silverware again. “How about I wait until Monday, we can call together.”

“Okay.” Henry nods, feeling infinitely better already. You can tell just by the way he’s not hunched in on himself, sitting upright and actually eating happily.

“Since it’s Friday, what do you say we leave homework until tomorrow and do something fun after dinner?” Charlie asks, to get him into a better mood.

“Can we start the project? I can go get my legos!” Henry perks up immediately, looking between the two of you.

“That sounds like a plan to me – but heyheyhey finish your dinner, (Y/N) worked hard on it.” Charlie chuckles as Henry nearly gets up to go bolt.

He sits back down with a sheepish smile, but you only give him a friendly wink to let him know it’s all okay.

No matter what, it’s all okay.

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

Charlie steels himself for this, for the grilling.

Nora has approached the stand and is walking back and forth in front of it with her hands steepled together like he’s got something up her sleeve. Charlie doesn’t like it, and neither do you.

But you’re strong, so much stronger than Nora expects.

“What were you doing there that evening to begin with, Ms. (L/N)?” She asks you.

“Henry asked me to be there, so I went.” You reply easily.

“If you’re just a babysitter, why did Henry want you there?” She counters.

“If I may speak frankly, I spent a lot of time around Mr. Barber and his son when Mrs. Barber abandoned them.” You try not to feel insulted, Charlie tries not to feel insulted for you, but that barb hits Nora, hits Nicole deep.

“Abandoned is a – ” Nora starts, but you’re not having any of it.

“For six months while she was off galivanting around Los Angeles with not even so much as a phone call, Mr. Barber needed someone to help him get adjusted. We didn’t know if Nico—if Mrs. Barber, would ever come back, and I wasn’t going to stand by and watch them struggle.” You say coldly.

“Struggle how?” Nora turns it on you, twists your words. “Are you saying Mr. Barber was unequipped to raise his son on his own?”

“I’m saying it’s not easy to adapt when you’re blindsided the way he was, equipped or not. Given no warning, no notice, nothing. I heard the argument when she left, in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. He’s my friend, I wasn’t going to make him go through that alone.” Your gaze is hard, and it’s a shame, Charlie thinks. Maybe in another life, you and this lawyer could have been good friends, you both match each other’s wits.

“Did you or Mr. Barber ever think to reach out to Mrs. Barber?” Nora points out.

“I can’t speak on behalf of Mr. Barber, but why would I want anything to do with someone who abandons their family?” You raise an eyebrow.

Nora’s jaw works, and then she turns to Nicole. Charlie does too, tries to read their mental exchange. Nicole gives the slightest hint of a nod, and he wonders if the judge sees it, if the judge sees anything at all.

“In those six months, did you witness anything happen to Henry while he was under Charlie’s care?” Nora asks, but Jay is standing up before you can answer.

“Objection, leading.” Jay calls.

“Overruled, the answer is important.” The judge dismisses it, and dread slips into Charlie’s stomach.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” You reply, trying to keep your tone light.

“Did Mr. Barber do anything reckless in those six months, that could pose as a danger to Henry?” Nora continues.

“No.” You don’t budge.

“What about in the two months that Mrs. Barber has been in communication with Mr. Barber?” She knows, somehow she knows about his arm.

“I don’t – ” You start, but she gets in your face.

“Did Mr. Barber do anything reckless in the two months that Mrs. Barber has been back in communication? It’s a very simple question.” Nora presses.

You and Charlie look at each other, and even though it’s been weeks, even though he’s fully healed up now, you both know you have to mention it, you’re under oath, you have to.

“There was an accident.” You say softly, very softly.

“What sort of accident?” Nora blinks, as if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

“He cut himself, but it was nothing serious, he only needed a couple stitches – ” You rush to say, and Nora gasps in mock concern.

“Stitches? My god, what did he do to cut himself deep enough to require stitches?” She asks, pushing pushing pushing you.

“I – well Mrs. Barber got him a – ” You start, and even though he’s starting to spiral, he loves you so much, loves you for trying to save him, even now, even here.

He doesn’t know if he deserves to be saved, but here you are, trying trying trying, fighting for him.

“Ms. (L/N). What did Mr. Barber do?” Nora asks, all pretense gone, nothing but a vicious lawyer.

“He used to have a thing, where he’d pretend to cut his arm with a boxcutter, but he’d retract the blade so he wouldn’t be hurt, to make it look like he was invincible.” You say through nearly grit teeth.

“You mean to tell me, Mr. Barber joked about self-harming oneself in front of his young, impressionable son?” Nora scoffs.

Charlie’s blood rushes in his ears, his hands sweat, he’s dizzy. He reaches for a glass of water that’s near the little desk he sits behind, and he’s almost afraid he’s going to drop it, hands too slippery.

“No! it wasn’t – ” You try, only to be interrupted again.

“What if Henry got a box cutter himself and didn’t think to retract the blade, and next time it was him who had to get stitches, or worse?” Nora says, and those are perfectly good arguments, which is why he doesn’t do that anymore, why he got rid of the fucking knife, why he --

“Henry’s not allowed to handle sharp objects – ” You speak, trying to backtrack, trying to fix this mess.

“Maybe so, but children emulate their parents, don’t they? And Henry looks up to Mr. Barber, doesn’t he? Is it not outside the realm of possibility, that he might take Mr. Barber’s boxcutter and do the ‘trick’ on himself?” Nora’s voice remains calm and maybe that’s the most infuriating part, Charlie thinks.

He wants to scream.

It’s tense, in the courtroom, so tense.

You and Nora look at one another, a stare-down that’s going to result in an answer one way or another.

Charlie hates her, hates Nicole.

God he hates her.

Especially when she’s the one who thought the trick was so fucking funny in the first place.

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility, no.” You say softly, not able to lie, not here, not now.

“And that would be considered quite reckless behavior, would it not?” Nora asks.

“Mr. Barber is a good person, and a good father, and that was one accident.” You shake your head.

“All it takes is once, Ms. (L/N), and from the way it sounds, this happened more than once. I wonder how many other funny tricks Mr. Barber showed Henry. No further questions, your honor.” Nora pats the wood of the witness stand before returning to her side of the courtroom, and you are asked to leave.

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

Charlie floats through the rest of the character witnesses. Nicole has brought someone in, some guy. Charlie doesn’t know who he is, he doesn’t care. He’s too wrapped up in his own head, too stunned that Nicole would have told Nora about that.

He’s got one more day, one more chance in this trial to prove his case, one more. And then that’s it. And then the judge decides.

He’s going to have to play dirtier, going to let Jay dig up as much as he can on this serpent of a woman he shared a decade of  his life with, her and her crocodile tears.

Tears so unlike yours, when later after they’ve been dismissed, your face is streaked with hot salt as Charlie collects you in his arms there in the lobby.                                            

“I’m so—I’m sorry.” You whisper out a little sob, tuck yourself against his neck as he moves you both out of sight. The lawyers are talking about going out for drinks later, and Charlie wants to scream.

How can they be so civil, when they’re tearing his life apart?

“Don’t you dare, don’t you apologize.” Charlie says, soothes you, whispers into your hair, “You did nothing wrong.”

Charlie catches Nicole’s eyes from across the lobby, and she sees the two of you embracing in the comfort of one another, your suits creasing from it.

He stares at her hard, hopes she can feel the venom he has for her. She turns away, hurries down the steps and out the front door of the courthouse, off to who the fuck knows where.

Charlie doesn’t care, not when he’s got you right here, in your pretty court clothes and your heart thudding against his. He doesn’t care, only rubs calming circles on your back, tries to get your tears to subside. You both have to go pick up Henry from school after all this, it won’t do to be salt-stained.

It’s the only reason he’s not a mess right now.

Well, that and you.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, but Charlie shakes his head, and when the two of you step apart enough to look into each other’s eyes, he assures you and reassures you,

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You nod, and you walk out of the courthouse, hands brushing but not quite holding onto one another.

He’ll ask you to stay again, he’ll ask, and you will, and it’ll all be okay.

Won’t it?

He passes justice with her scales and her blindfold, and now…now he’s not so sure.

The way you look up at him with sad eyes, he’s not so sure.

 I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

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

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[glenncoco4]

War Zone

A/N: Finally got around to this update. Chapter 3 coming at ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 month later

Marty shuts the front door, and turns around only to be met with numerous boxes and is very excited wife as she comes up next to him, the smile that’s been on her face ever since early this morning, ever so present. Throwing his arm around her shoulders, he wraps her in a strong embrace, and places a kiss to the top of her head. “Home sweet home.”

Titling her head back, her chocolate orbs lock with those of ocean blue as they get lost in this monumental moment. “I can’t believe we just bought a house.”

“Mmmm. You know what we should do first?”

Without another word, she jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carries her up to their bedroom.

Once in the room Marty graciously throws his wife onto the bed, her jaw immediately dropping at his actions. A few seconds later she’s thriving in pain, cringing as she holds onto the arm that she landed on. “Ow, god.”

“Oh, shit, are you okay? Baby, I’m so sorry, I was just playing around.”

He’s just about to reach for her arm to check it out when she once again locks her thighs around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. “I told you to never do that again.”

Now laying on top of her, locked in the death grip of her thighs, Marty can’t help but smile. His wife may look like the weaker of the two but she definitely takes him down more often than not. “But I love wrestling with you.”

“I’ll show you wrestling.” Using her weight to her advantage, Kensi flips them so that she’s now on top of him, still trapping him between her thighs.

“You know, maybe I should get you a cowboy hat seeing as though you like this position so much.”

She smirks, and scoots down his body, brining her heat right on top of his.

His eyes go wide as she grinds against the bulge that’s growing in his pants. “God, baby.” He’s just about to surrender when, she quickly jumps up, standing on the bed and looks down at him, grin on her face.

“Like I said, don’t mess with me.”

His head begins to bob up and down as she starts jumping on their new bed. Catching a glimpse of her smile, he’s reminded of how much joy she has. She’s seen so much in her life, yet is always able to find the happiness and love that life brings. He’s the only one that gets to see this side of her and that is one of best gifts he’s ever been given in life.

She begins laughing uncontrollably once her husband pops up and starts jumping with her. She feels like she’s floating, her life before Marty had been good, but with him is so much better. She’s able to relax and act like a dork with him. After a few minutes, they soon grow tired and fall onto the bed, panting, her head resting on his stomach as they stare at the ceiling.

Once they catch their breath, she turns to look at him and he’s already looking at her. His finger finding the strand of hair that’s fallen across her face, pushing it behind her ear, smiling. “I love you.”

XXXX

July 20, 2008

They’re making their way through the small Afghan village covered in dust, trying to get back to their camp when a resounding whistle that’s more like a catcall comes from behind.

“Hey, honey, I’ll be your prisoner of war!”

She snaps her head around, ready to give the guy a tongue lashing when she sees that shit eating grin that’s been plastered in her mind for many weeks now. “Well if it isn’t homeless Joe.”

“No, it’s me Marty.”

They share a smile as the distance between them lessens, both of them more excited than willing to admit being back in each other’s presence.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“We just got here this morning.”

“How long?”

“Just for the night actually.”

His eyes light up at the thought of spending more time with this woman that’s been a frequent star of his thoughts and dreams.“Great, because I know just the place that makes the most delicious Aushak.”

“And?”

He nervously runs his fingers through his golden locks, a small hopeful smile playing at his lips. “And well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have dinner with me.”

The Petty Officer frowns which immediately makes his whole body deflate, when she knows she’s got him a toothy grin makes itself known on her face. “I guess I could move some things around.”

The photojournalist huffs a laugh, completely elated that she’s willing to give them a shot or at least go to dinner with him so they can get to know each other better.

A few hours later…

“This is so good.”

He’s mesmerized by how fast she’s scarfing down her food, not a care in the world and at the same time the most elegant beautiful creature he’s ever seen. “I know how to please my lady.”

“Your lady.” She quirks her brow, mouth still full of food.

He nods, assuring her that she heard right.“Yep!”

“So you think just because we’ve communicated almost everyday for two and a half months that makes me your lady?” Just saying it out loud makes her heart beat faster. This man that so unexpectedly walked into her life has affected her in a way that no man ever has before. Any time he’s free, she gets a phone call or a text and they’re in the middle of the desert in a war zone for crying out loud.

“Yeah, cause you know why?”

“Why?”

He pinches a piece of his dark blue dry fit, flashing her a smile.“You see this shirt. It’s made of boyfriend material.”

She snorts, unable to hold back her smile. “Has that ever worked?”

Marty’s brow pinches, nodding slowly. “Yeah, plenty-plenty of times.”

She rolls her eyes, obviously seeing right through his “macho” facade.

“Okay, no.”

“That’s what I thought.” Without thinking, she reaches over the table, taking some food off his plate as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

XXXX

Present 

He smiles fondly at the memory of their first date, so vividly playing out in his mind. “God, I was so nervous about asking you out that night. It’s all I had been thinking about for the last two months.”

“I have that effect on men.”

“Yeah. You do.”

“Hey.” She laughs, swatting playfully at his chest.

Marty leans up, resting on his elbows, his eyes locking with his love. “What, you can be intimidating sometimes.”

“But I guess you were immune?”

“You could say that. Or maybe you were caught off guard by my rugged handsomeness.”

“You wish.” As the words come out of her mouth, they both know it’s a lie.

That cocky grin spreads to his lips, the one that she hates to admit that she loves, because he’s right. He did catch her off guard. “Oh, no, baby. I know.”

XXXX

Midnight July 21, 2008

Dinner had been amazing to say the least, they laughed, told stories and in between those moments were pockets of silence as they enjoyed each other’s company. They made is back to camp just at about midnight. Even though he knew she could take care of herself, he thought it was only right to make sure she got back to her quarters safely. “Nice place.”

“Being in charge has its perks.” She sends him a pearly white smile.

“So when do get your next leave?”

“5 weeks from today.” Her face lights up at the realization. It’s been so long since she’s had some R&R, and she for one cannot wait. “What about you?”

He shrugs, giving the SEAL a barely there smile. “Not really sure yet. I’ve been working on this big story and I have a feeling that it’s gonna come to ahead within the next 6 weeks or so.”

Suddenly his change in demeanor makes sense, she knows of the stories that he reports on, and the effect this place can have on a person. She knows he can take care of himself, but it still worries her knowing that he’s basically out there all alone in these dangerous places.“You’ll be careful, right?”

He smiles, closing the distance between them, invading her personal space. His finger delicately traces the side of her face, moving the strand of hair behind her ear. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

A blush rises to her cheeks, god she’s in the middle of a war and flirting with a man. “Not really, no.”

“You’re so beautiful, Kens.”

Her eyes dart from his to his lips and then back again. She slowly leans forward, her lips meeting his making explosions go off in her head. Falling in love in a war zone, yeah, that makes a whole lotta sense.

XXXX

Present

He continues to play with her hair, as they lay curled together in bed in their new house…that they just bought. “You know something.”

She smile and takes the notion to sit up, maneuvering so that she’s now laying practically on top of him, inches between their faces. “I know a lot of somethings.”

“I always felt secure knowing that the military was there if I ever needed them. But once I met you, even though we weren’t with each other half the time, I felt more safe than I ever did in my life knowing that you were out there watching my six.”

“Always.” Her nails lightly scratch his beard. “And I felt safe knowing that you were there, getting bad ass shots of me being an action star.”

He nods in agreement, thinking about all the times that they were in the field together, making the world better in their own right. No matter how much time they had together, he would always make it a point to get a shot of her. “I do have to admit that most of my shots of you have gotten me through some lonely nights.”

“Perv.”

His arms find their way around the small of her back and pull her even closer into his body. “Hey, you’re my wife. It’s like the law.”

“If you say so.”

“But now..” He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. “Now I have the real thing and it's SOOOO much better.”

She can’t help but sigh in contentment. Everything is changing and she for one is so much happier knowing that she’ll actually get to wake up and go to sleep in her husband’s arms every day. “Mmmm, you got that right.”

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 10

An Asha’man contemplates personhood and Perrin finally has a meeting.

Chapter 10: After the Taint

Back to Perrin, who’s talking with Elyas and Grady and walking through camp and still not meeting Galad. His last chapter seemed like the last few moments before such a meeting, but I guess we’re drawing this out a bit more?

Ah, a fallen statue with a sword. Well, now I know generally where we are in the timeline, at least. That’s the statue Rand mentioned to Nynaeve (when he told her to dream on my behalf, Nynaeve; and yes, that still hurts).

Perrin’s second-guessing all his life choices—okay, in fairness, mostly just his recent strategic choices—and Elyas, voice of reason, is making the very good point that you can’t actually anticipate every eventuality. Or, as Lan might say, “You can never know everything, and part of what you know is always wrong. Perhaps even the most important part. A portion of wisdom lies in knowing that.”

Lan may not be there, but I’m glad Perrin has both Elyas and Tam with him. Both of them are good… not just grounding influences but I guess… steadying ones. They’re people who have gone through quite a lot of Life Experience, not all of it pleasant, and have emerged from it with a clear sense of who they are, and how they fit into the world around them. And Perrin needs people like that with him now; Rand needs people who help remind him he’s human, Mat needs his Greek chorus, and Perrin needs… people who have found that kind of balance within themselves, to show him it’s possible. Elyas, who has found his balance between man and wolf. Tam, the farmer and soldier, and neither of those lessening the other. In a way, I think they’re both not unlike the sort of person Perrin himself might be when he’s older.

I suppose what I’m getting at here is, it’s good for Perrin to have some role models.

Ugh, apparently the Two Rivers people are still judging Perrin for that time they think he slept with Berelain. Don’t slutshame the wolfboy, people; for all you know he has an open marriage!

…Okay anyone who’s met Faile could likely guess that’s not the case. But they should know better than to trust so much to rumour, especially when they know Perrin. Unfortunately, though, people are people. Also, you know, Wheel Of Absolutely No Communication and all that. Sigh.

Perrin wants to sneak into the Whitecloaks’ camp for a rescue mission, and Grady just wants to go Dumai’s Wells on their asses. Not…sure either of those is exactly a great solution here, boys. Have you considered talking? Oh, wait, no, forgot what series I’m reading.

He hated the idea of letting the Asha’man loose with impunity. The scent of burned flesh in the air, the earth ripped apart and broken. The scents of Dumai’s Wells. However, he couldn’t afford another distraction like Malden. If there were no other choice, he’d give the order.

And now he knows how Rand felt, when he did give that order.

Still, this could be taken as a small moment of growth for Perrin, to acknowledge—hating the idea but not letting it drag him fully into a crisis of self-hatred—that he could do this, will do this if he has to. That this is an option available to him, and that if it is necessary, he’ll do it. And being able to do that not in the moment (the way he sort of did with the Shaido prisoners, for example), and not in that desperate single-minded focus on finding Faile, but as a simple evaluation of the options available to him, in anticipation of what might be needed for this next task.

Still, for all their sakes, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

Not yet, though. There are no coincidences with ta’veren. The wolves, the Whitecloaks. Things he had been outrunning for some time were returning to hunt him.

Wow that sounds almost like self-awareness! And lack of denial! Again, to Perrin’s credit, he’s been alright at that for a little while now, but it’s still a big enough achievement that I’ll celebrate it whenever it happens with these boys.

But yes, Perrin. It’s the endgame of an epic fantasy series; there are no coincidences here.

The Whitecloaks had haunted him since his early days out of the Two Rivers. Dealing with them had never been simple.

It felt like the time had come. Time to make an end to his troubles with them, one way or another.

That, basically. Coming full circle and getting closure to an arc and all that fun stuff.

Which is another reason why this shouldn’t end in violence, perhaps. Because that’s what started all of this: Perrin fought the Whitecloaks, and killed two of them (and then several more, with Gaul, for old times’ sake), and had to Deal With That, both in his own mind acknowledging himself as a killer and with the consequences of it. And at every stage of this he’s been in conflict with the Whitecloaks. Fighting them directly, or at odds with them in the Two Rivers.

(They make such a good point of conflict for him too, especially when you set the Tuatha’an on the other side, because together they kind of represent an extreme version of some of the sides of Perrin’s own conflict within himself. The Tuatha’an as an extreme version of his wish for peace and his fear of the violence he carries within himself; the Whitecloaks as an extreme version of a determination to do the right thing.)

But now the Whitecloaks are being set up for a kind of redemption via Galad, and Perrin’s arc is drawing to a close for the endgame, and so it would fit both sides for this long-running conflict, which challenges the fundamentals of who they are, to come to a close not in violence but in alliance. To recognise in each other something to be admired rather than only something to be feared or hated. To see points of similarity rather than just irreconcilable difference. Because to do so would also, I think, mean accepting some of those things in themselves, so that they can all move forwards.

And on the subject of alliance where once was enmity, the Asha’man and Aes Sedai with Perrin have figured out linking. Well, Neald has, and Grady seems keen to get on board. Cooperation! Overcoming millennia-long barriers! Being stronger together!

“Light! It’s wonderful. We should have done this months ago.”

Or centuries, but it’s all relative, right?

I do love, though, that at almost every turn, once this kind of cooperation happens, it’s seen by those involved as something positive, treated with this kind of joyous amazement. Like Nynaeve’s first time as part of a circle, or this, or affirmations of friendship, or those moments when characters finally decide to be open or honest with one another. It’s almost always rewarded; it takes a hell of a lot of work and time and pain to get there, but once they do, it’s something good.

“I was wondering if I might…” [Grady] seemed hesitant. “Well, if I might have leave to slip over to the Black Tower for an afternoon, to see my family.”

Oh. Oh man. Okay I think I see where this is going. (The importance of having family, to keep him grounded, as Rand recognised so long ago when he first started gathering men who could channel, before he all but lost sight of his own anchors. And the taint is gone now so it’s safe, or at least safer…).

Also, please let Grady or someone go to the Black Tower because I need a Black Tower interlude. It has been far too long and there have been far too few in the first place. What is happening there. I need to know. Because of reasons.

Damn it Perrin let him go see his family! I mean okay fair, there’s a clear threat ahead and a possible threat behind so tactically yeah, not a great time. And he does agree to let Grady go at some point soon.

“You never worried about this before, Grady,” Perrin said. “Has something changed?”

“Everything,” Grady said softly. Perrin got a whiff of his scent. Hopeful. “It changed a few weeks back. But of course you don’t know. Nobody knows. Fager and I weren’t certain at first, and we weren’t sure if we should tell anyone for fear of sounding delusional.”

“Know what?”

“My Lord, the taint. It’s gone.”

And with it, the certain death sentence they’ve all been living under. It does change everything: once, they were weapons, because that was all they could hope to be in their brief time of power before madness. Once, all they could do in the end was die for this cause. Now, there’s a chance they can live for it. Can let themselves be more than weapons again, can hope for something more.

In its own way it’s yet another version of Rand’s realisation on Dragonmount, for all that this comes earlier chronologically (and for all that we’ve seen it happen already for some of the characters who were closer to the cleansing). This idea that there might be more to the future than death, more to give than a last stand and despair, more to be than a weapon.

The timing of this does seem kind of weird, given that the cleansing was several books ago now, and the explanation that they were waiting to be sure… eh, I suppose no one ever tells anyone anything in this series so it doesn’t strain suspension of disbelief too far. I suppose it just feels weird because everything about Perrin’s chapters up until now has felt like a building up of tension before his inevitable meeting with Galad, and this feels like a kind of random digression.

Not an unimportant one—this is lovely, and fits well in terms of where we are in the overall story in the sense of realisation of hope once thought lost—but just… somewhat oddly placed.

“Seems the sort of thing Rand might have been about,” Perrin said.

Which might just be the most chill reaction to hearing about the cleansing of saidin we’ve seen from anyone. Oh, a miracle? The removal of a three-thousand-year-old evil that has gradually destroyed so much of society and thrown the world out of balance? Yeah, that sounds like something Rand would do, cool, fair enough.

It probably helps that Perrin himself can’t channel, so all of this would feel a bit more… abstract, maybe? Which might make it easier to accept than it would be for someone to whom this is an integral part of their lives. Still, it makes me laugh.

“When I joined the Lord Dragon, I knew what would happen to me. A few more years and I’d be gone. Might as well spend them fighting. The Lord Dragon told me I was a soldier, and a soldier can’t leave his duty. So I haven’t asked to go back before now. You needed me.”

“That’s changed?”

“My Lord, the taint is gone. I’m not going to go mad. That means… well, I’ve always had a reason to fight. But now I’ve got a reason to live, too.”

This, exactly. The difference between having something to die for and having something to live for; dying for a cause and living for one. It’s adjacent to Rand’s own why do you fight question and realisation, but it’s also the realisation that there is something more than death ahead.

There’s a kind of honour, certainly, in knowing he’s going to die and deciding to at least make that death worth something—give that brief time before madness to some kind of cause, use this power that damns him to serve some goal. But now that’s not the only choice. Now he can decide to fight, still, but also to live, and to hope for something else; to be a soldier, yes, but not merely a weapon.

It’s one of those shifts in perspective that from one angle looks so slight but that actually means everything, that changes everything.

And again, while the specific timing in this chapter is a little weird, it otherwise is such a fitting realisation; sure, it’s technically before Dragonmount, but narratively it’s during this time when this kind of shifting perspective is spreading across the world from its epicentre: the mountain where hope first seemed to die and now at last has been restored. This realisation that there’s more than just a dark inevitability to the future; that instead there are choices and things to live for and possibilities and second chances.

(There’s one rather prominent character who still has yet to come to his own version of this realisation, but he’s riding towards it now, unless I am very much mistaken).

That was what Perrin had sensed in the Asha’man all along, the reason they held themselves apart, often seeming so sombre. Everyone else fought for life. The Asha’man… they’d fought to die.

That’s how Rand feels, Perrin thought.

Indeed. And almost surprisingly perceptive of Perrin; for a while in the middle he sort of… didn’t quite allow himself to see Rand’s despair and sadness. But he’s absolutely right, in this.

And he touches on another key part of this change, in that thought of the Asha’man holding themselves apart. Not quite letting themselves be part of the world in the same way as others, not allowing themselves connections and friendships and anchors; turning themselves to weapons (or, in Rand’s case, to steel, to cuendillar). Which then leads to a kind of apathy or despair, to no longer having anything to live for, because they allow themselves nothing, because they don’t allow themselves to be people. But now they can, and so Grady is reaching back out to those things that mattered, back when he was a person and not a weapon (like the veins of gold). Drawing on them once more to pull himself back, to let himself be himself again.

I suppose in a way this ties into where Perrin is in his own story as well, now that he has found Faile and come out of the other side of that single-minded despair in which nothing else mattered. Because he, too, is finding his footing again after that. Finding some kind of purpose. It’s not like-for-like, but it all ties together.

Grady laughed. It felt odd, but good, to hear that from the man.

Laughter and tears.

Oh, are we actually going to get the meeting with Galad now?

“There is a stranger riding along the road towards camp. He flies a flag of peace, but he wears the clothing of these Children of the Light.”

FINALLY.

Oh good Tam is here. Tam is a good person to have around when everything’s likely to go to shit.

Ah it’s Dain Bornhald rather than Galad. That’s… not exactly ideal. He and Perrin didn’t precisely part on the best of terms. Or meet on the best of terms. Or ever interact on anything but the worst of terms, really.

Anyway Bornhald opens by calling Perrin a criminal so we’re off to a great start.

“It is you. The Light has delivered you to us.”

“Unless it has also delivered you an army three or four times the size of the one you have now,” Perrin called, “then I doubt very much that it will matter.”

I’m always here for Perrin’s backtalk, of course, but I’m pretty sure an outright threat isn’t going to help this situation any. Then again, it was more or less a lost cause as soon as Bornhald showed up, given I don’t think anything but a severe concussion and possibly amnesia is going to change his opinion of Perrin, so.

Perrin’s attempting something vaguely resembling diplomacy, in that he’s basically saying ‘why don’t we just ignore each other until we’re out of sight’, but Bornhald’s not so keen on that option. Unsurprisingly.

“But I will leave that for the Lord Captain Commander to explain. He wishes to see you for himself.”

YES. FINALLY.

Though Perrin’s not so keen on walking into what could very likely be a trap, and Tam’s thinking much the same thing… but hey, he’s ta’veren; what could possibly go wrong? When has knowing they’re walking into a trap ever gone anything but perfectly well for any of these characters? (Don’t answer that).

“Burn me, Tam. I have to at least try before attacking them.”

That’s… a fair point, at least given Perrin’s own sense of honour and morality. It’s part of his ongoing conflict with the Whitecloaks as well, really: at none of their encounters has he actually wanted to kill them, or to attack first. He’s not out hunting them, and while he does sort of bear a grudge against them now, it wasn’t always that way. It’s just that there’s quite a lot of bad blood there, and even in the early days things went south quickly, and so it inevitably ended in bloodshed.

The six of them broke away from camp, and blessedly, Faile didn’t seem to have heard what was happening. Perrin would bring her if there was a longer parley or discussion, but he intended this trip to be quick, and he needed to be able to move without worrying about her.

Kind of a shame, given that she could be an asset in a discussion or negotiation. But at least he knows that well enough to be thinking of bringing her along if there’s going to be extended talking, I suppose. Would Galad know her? Maybe not on sight, but I’d imagine he might know her name, and certainly would know her father’s… that could help. Or not; who knows.

HI GALAD.

The tall man had fine features and short, dark hair. Most women would probably call him handsome. He smelled… better than the other Whitecloaks.

This description is just trying way too hard to emphasise the ‘no homo’ that it pretty much runs screaming in the other direction, and I’m laughing.

“Goldeneyes,” the man said. “So it is true.”

“You’re the Lord Captain Commander?” Perrin asked.

“I am.”

Oh, of course we’re doing this without Perrin ever getting his name. Of course. I can’t quite decide if that strains my suspension of disbelief or not, but either way: ARGH. Then again, Perrin’s never actually met Galad and doesn’t know that Maighdin is Morgase, and barely even knows Elayne, so knowing Galad’s identity might not actually help him all that much.

“What will it take for you to release the people of mine you’re holding?”

“My men tell me they tried such an exchange once,” the Whitecloak leader said. “And that you deceived them and betrayed them.”

Well, yes, they would say that. But Galad, you of all people should know that there are probably more sides to that particular story, especially given you’re not getting it from an unbiased source.

Galad keeps listing out Perrin’s alleged crimes, some of which could be argued to be true (killing Whitecloaks); some of which are bullshit (leading Trollocs to attack his own village), but none of which he has any actual evidence for, beyond the word of his own men. Their word against Perrin’s, and it seems like Galad should also know that just because he’s the Lord Captain Commander now, and trying to drag this organisation kicking and screaming into some kind of redemption, doesn’t mean everyone in it is suddenly noble and honourable and not lying outright to him.

Or even that they’re mistaken. That, as is so often the case, there’s just more to the story. That maybe the people whose information he’s relying on didn’t know everything that was actually happening. Which is closer to the truth, really; Bornhald genuinely believes Perrin is evil, and so everything else gets filtered through that lens of confirmation bias.

“I want a more formal parley, where we can sit down and discuss. Not something improvised like this.”

“I doubt that will be needed,” the Whitecloak leader said. “I am not here to bargain. I merely wanted to see you for myself. You wish your people freed? Meet my army on the field of battle. Do this, and I will release the captives, regardless of the outcome.”

I am a little surprised Galad outright refuses Perrin’s request to sit down and talk about this like adults. Because sure, he’s seen Perrin now, but what information does that tell him? It’s a perfectly reasonable request, and nothing Perrin’s said to him has been particularly unreasonable, and again, Galad should know better than to just take as absolute truth everything he’s been told.

Then again, Bornhald told him the truth about Valda and Morgase, so maybe that’s earned him Galad’s trust? Still, it seems odd that he wouldn’t give Perrin some kind of chance—a trial, or a conversation—to defend himself, before challenging him to a battle, where so many more people could die.

I just don’t get Galad sometimes, but what else is new.

“Your force will face ours under the Light,” the Whitecloak leader said. “Those are our terms.”

So you’re just going to sentence some of your own people to death in order to determine this, rather than… talk? Sure. Okay. Trial by combat by proxy; why the hell not.

I’m still guessing it’s not actually going to come to that, somehow, though I can’t quite see how. Unless Galad sees Morgase. That’s the only thing I can think of that could potentially stop this from turning into the mess it’s currently heading for.

He could take the Whitecloak leader captive right here, with barely a thought.

Perrin was tempted. But they had come under the Whitecloak’s oath of safety. He would not break the peace.

That’s some rather weird logic, if you’re intending to then meet him on the field of battle. Capture one person, and the cost is breaking an oath of peace. Keep that oath of peace, and the cost is, very probably, the lives of some of the people following you.

I mean okay, I get it, truce flags should be honoured because otherwise Bad Things Happen, but… eh. Like with a lot of the ‘rules’ of warfare, sometimes thinking about it too hard gets a bit weird.

***

Oh we get a Galad POV now, so maybe his thinking will make more sense. Though admittedly I don’t hold out a great deal of hope for that, because again, Galad’s thought process just baffles me sometimes.

Those golden eyes were unsettling. He had discounted Byar’s insistence that this man was not merely a Darkfriend, but Shadowspawn. However, looking into those eyes, Galad was no longer certain he could dismiss those claims.

Come on, Galad, did no one ever teach you not to judge people by their appearance?

Like, on the one hand… okay, people he trusts have told him some pretty terrible thing about this guy, and he does have (apparently) unsettling eyes, and he didn’t deny any of the accusations Galad listed out. And confirmation bias, again, is a strong thing. It does make sense that he would be wary of Perrin, and expect him to be an enemy, to potentially be evil, and to see that at least his physical description matches what he was told so maybe the rest does, too.

It’s just frustrating.

“They would not have harmed me,” Galad said.

So you’ll believe he’s a monster, but also that you were safe?

To be fair, his reasoning for why he was safe does make sense, more or less, given what he knows and (mostly) what he assumes.

“If he is as you and Child Byar say, then he worries greatly about his image. He didn’t lead Trollocs against the Two Rivers directly. He pretended to defend them.” Such a man would act with subtlety. Galad had been safe.

Well, it makes sense if you partially discard Occam’s Razor and also fail to account for the possibility that he’s not as Bornhald and Child Byar say. Then again, if that’s true, then Galad was also safe, because Perrin’s not a monster or a threat.

Alright, fine, Galad, I’ll give you that one.

Those eyes… they were almost a condemnation by themselves.

Seriously, people, what is it with determining a person’s morality by their eye colour? You live in a world with literal magic! Sometimes weird shit happens!

And Aybara had reacted to the mention of the murdered Whitecloaks, stiffening. Beyond that, there was the talk his people gave of him in alliance with the Seanchan and having with him men who could channel.

Again, I can just about see where Galad’s coming from, and how he’s putting the pieces together, but I wish he’d stop for just a moment to consider that maybe there’s more to the story. But then, he’s hardly the only person in this series to come to not-entirely-accurate conclusions based on flawed or incomplete information. They’re all just working with what they have, and sometimes what they have is wrong, but… well, if I gave Lan’s a portion of wisdom quote to Perrin earlier, I suppose it’s only fair I grant Galad the same courtesy now. He doesn’t have perfect evidence that what he’s been told is right, but it paints a compelling enough picture, and he doesn’t have much evidence to the contrary, either.

Better to defeat this Aybara now, than to wait and face him at the Last Battle. As quickly as that, he made his decision. The right decision. They would fight.

Morgase, get over here; we need you.  

Previous (ToM ch 9)

[arcticdementor]

A reader writes:

I’m writing to you today because I have some information to share with you (and your readers) who may still be skeptical that this LGBTQIA+ gender-identity craze is coming for their kids.  Some recent interactions online have made me more aware than ever that the movement is spreading in wild and unpredictable ways, and also made me reflect on how, in my own life, even someone like me could have fallen victim to it.

I want to start off by saying that recently, (and ironically, in an attempt to try not to be sucked into the internet as purely a source for doom and gloom: you will see how this backfires on me) I decided to rejoin a fan community surrounding one of my favorite franchises on Twitter. I won’t go into too much detail about which community and the exact specifics, but just know that it’s a popular franchise that’s appropriate for older kids, teens and adults (nothing 18+, nothing for really little ones).  As a teen myself I was fairly active in a similar branch of this community on another social media platform (Facebook), and enjoyed it immensely before the platform eventually went more or less defunct as a hot-spot for fan content. Most of the content was fan-created work (like fan-art or fan-fiction) with a little interaction and lots of “DID YOU SEE THE LATEST” kinds of posts.

…

Anyway, to keep it to a minimum, that was then. If you’ve been on the internet any time in the last five years you know that spaces where people just talk about an interest and don’t mix it with politics and activism are becoming few and far between. Even though I knew this, and knew that I wasn’t going to have the same experience in a different place, something sparked an interest in me to go try to reconnect with my internet roots in a different setting.  So, I followed some hashtags, quickly found some new followers and settled back to enjoy at least marginally some discussions online that didn’t have to do with Covid and All The Ways We Are All Going To Die.

Then came the teenagers.

Much like when I was a kid, this franchise attracts a lot of younger people.  So it was hardly surprising to me to find that many of my new followers were in the 14-18 age range and that people like myself (mid-older 20s) were a sort of senior majority. That was fine- Twitter’s rules after all are 13+, so it’s not unreasonable to assume if you’re part of a popular group that you’ll interact on occasion with minors. That wasn’t the part I found strange. The part I found strange was that all of them, and I repeat, all of them were fans of two things- the franchise, and gender identities.

You can actually almost pinpoint the age range of the 18 and under crowd by how many of them have the following: 1. Pronouns in bio and in username.  2. Gender identity or lack thereof displayed in bio or username. 3. LGBTQ+ sexual orientation displayed in bio or username. etc. etc. etc. I’m not going to dive into it too much, because some might be saying “isn’t that just normal nowadays? Even politicians do that?” Well, you’re not wrong if that’s what you’re thinking. And that’s not the part that disturbs me.

What disturbed me was that, a few weeks after I joined the group, I started noticing an unsettling pattern among many of these teenage users (and many over-teen users, but I’m trying to make a point about the young ones specifically). For a few days, after an interesting bit of news or a trailer or some other thing that unites franchises, the posts in my feed would be primarily things like what I remembered from past experiences: posts about the franchises, theories, speculations, fanart, etc.  But, every time things would settle back down into a quiet, normal week, the feeds in my post became almost entirely about one thing: Gender and LGBTQ talking points.  I’m going to diverge for one second and say that many people in this group aren’t using a personal, front-facing account for their interactions in this fan-group. They’re mostly using alt-accounts with no real names and faces attached (myself included).  And yet, every time the discussion in the feeds died down to where there was just no new stuff about the franchise to talk about, all the conversation slowly but surely shifted back to sexual orientation and gender.  From fan-ships of perfect LGB couples to ‘hey I drew this person but as a trans-female!’ to even forgoing pretending to talk about their interests and just discussing their own gender and sex presentation with their other online friends, it became quickly very clear to me that A. I no longer really belonged here and B. Every single one of these kids was obsessed. Every. Single. One.

…

I’m going to digress and talk about myself for a minute to explain just why these examples, particularly that last one, burn a hole in my soul.  From the minute I was old enough to remember, I’ve never been one of those typically presenting females. When my sisters and I played dress-up as kids, they played princesses and I played a prince or a witch or whatever was more interesting. In addition to the dolls and barbies I had being one of three girls, I also had an assortment of boy-oriented toys, including action figures, a remote control car and this really cool nerf bow-and-arrow set that I still secretly wish had survived my playing with it because man, my kids are gonna miss out someday. My hair was short because I hated wearing it up and the solution was a bob, and when we spent time with relatives I could be found as far away from my female cousins as possible, hanging out with my male cousins and talking about Legos and Lord of The Rings. I spent 90% of my time reading books and ignoring reality, and didn’t put much effort into my appearance until probably age 13 or later.

And I wished I was a boy.

It wasn’t an all-consuming thought, but I thought it. I wished, many times, when my parents would fuss at me to please stop attempting to climb trees in your Sunday clothes and when my sisters never talked about anything but dolls and tea-parties around their friends that I could be one of the boys. I had always liked the boys and their world better, and I fit into better, and yet there was that little problem (that I was still a girl) that kept me from being accepted into the boy group.  The reality was, I was already probably very intelligent for my age (too-well read children can relate) and I took that big-headedness a little too far at times. I was also a very emotional person (still am) and just passionately felt that being a girl and being expected to do girl things was hideous and unfair.

The saving grace? My mom was the same. She’s never been a typical female either, and though as adults we have some clear differences (ironically, I have more stereotypical female interests/talents than her- like a hidden passion for interior decorating and a love of baking and so on) she was there for me, to be able to tell me that no- I didn’t really want to be a boy, I was just a girl who liked sword fights and grass-stains more than ballgowns and tea parties, and that was okay!!! She was proof that there were other girls like me, and that I would find more of them eventually (I did) and, even though we never said so in so many words, that stereotypes and how we fit into them has nothing to do with our innate female and male selves. And so, reassured that I could be female and still be however I wanted, I eventually grew out of those thoughts, and as I matured, found that there were ‘female things’ I connected with that my past self was too young to appreciate.

But, think about all this in a modern context. I’m a happy adult female now, and I was never truly gender-questioning. I just thought, for a while, that boys had more fun than I did, so I wanted to be one.  But that, in it of itself, is a thought that’s deep enough for modern gender activists to insist I be transitioned immediately and put on life-altering hormones, never given a chance to grow up or grow out of questioning, and affirmed in my presentation instantly! If I, like that young girl online, had been handed a ‘gender-affirming’ flag and an identity that ‘made sense’ out of why I was different from my peers, I might have jumped on it, especially without the presence of a wise older person to tell me I wasn’t anything different than what she’d been as a child. This is the problem, this is why this kind of thing is so dangerous and toxic and wrong.