#this happens EVERY TIME i leave Cal for longer than a day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jinmukangwrites · 17 days ago

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you're my baby, say it to me

Summary:

"The Empire will never stop," he says, stalking a healthy perimeter around her still form. "It only grows stronger. Joining them is the only way. Surrender, Cere. Please. I don't want to have to kill you."

She stares at him, her face becoming relaxed and regretful, recognizing that there's no way that he'll let himself consider leaving the Empire. This is the final test, Lord Vader knows he'll have to make a choice, and the terror of making the one Darth Vader would dislike keeps him from even entertaining the idea.

"I won't give up on you, Cal," Cere says, widening her stance and lifting her lightsaber. "Not again."

The Twelfth Brother doesn't reply, just screams and charges forward.

---

"Taking the Bullet" for Bad Things Happen Bingo

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandoms:

Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order Series (Video Games), Star Wars - All Media Types

Relationship:

Cere Junda & Cal Kestis

Characters:

Cal Kestis, Cere Junda

Additional Tags:

Implied/Referenced Torture, Alternate Universe, Hopeful Ending

Notes:

Cal is an unreliable narrator in this btw, he's so silly. This all came from a post I saw where the only reason Cal was able to escape Nur was because Vader was testing him, and also from a what if Inquisitor Cal video I saw on YouTube where Vader sends Cal after Cere. ---

Often, too often, the Twelfth Brother wakes up choking.

On words, on a scream, on a name. Emotions that rage from a past life; a life that no longer belonged to him. Bleeding lightsabers saw to that, the impossible strength of a single robotic man, tossing her aside like she weighed nothing, impaling the Twelfth Brother on his own reforged blade while the metal structure of a small droid burst into electric shocks and dying binary.

He squashed the awful memories down every time they came up. That life doesn't matter anymore; he was an insignificant cog in the Imperial machine now. He broke; that version of himself having been stripped away, leaving nothing but an empty vessel to be filled with fear and hatred; the burning desire to do whatever his new Master wanted of him so long as the pain stopped.

Focus. The nightmares, the choking, are done for the day. The Twelfth Brother has a mission; investigate and tear the Hidden Path apart. He's lacking in some skills compared to the rest of the Inquisitor's, but if there's one thing he has better than all of them, it's the ability to follow a trail to the jugular.

Jedha is an unforgiving place. The towering red cliffs, the creatures that had evolved to survive here, the pounding sun that makes him grateful he tended to have his helmet on more often than off these days. Hidden among the ruins and cliffs... a major player in the Path. Rumor has it, a Jedi leads this operation. A tidbit of information the former Commander Denvik of the ISB tried to hide from the Inquisitorius. Unfortunately for him, the Twelfth Brother was very good at finding things out. He and his Jedi Pet had been personally dealt with by Vader; not a fate Twelfth Brother would wish on anyone.

The transport ships land before the jutting orange cliffs, troopers jumping out and surrounding the unassuming insurgents. Every Imperial occupation nearby are readying their equipment; walkers will be here soon, and in droves.

This base, the Jedi inside, they don't stand a chance.

It goes nearly exactly as planned.

It's a gruesome, unforgiving battle between the troopers and the Anchorites. Blaster fire becomes white noise as the cultists are slaughtered, foolish untrained warriors desperately trying to give the weaker members a chance to flee. The Twelfth Brother skips out on the battles outside; fighting refugees is beneath him. He has his real target, the Jedi inside, and it's easy to slip into the carved out hallways as the masses kill each other outside.

Of course there's cultists within the halls he invades. Frightful things, hiding behind the ones brave enough to lead and shakily hold out blasters. Nothing more than fodder for the ends of his red blades.

He doesn't even break a sweat before he reaches an important looking door that must lead to an equally important room. He reaches out with the Force, digging nails into the mechanisms locking the door shut and tearing them apart. Hinges scream as the heavy door drags open; sparks flying with torn wiring and broken locks.

And he stops in his tracks.

Because he sees her.

His first thought is that Lord Vader knew. He knew who would be here, which is why he sent the Twelfth Brother. This is a test, perhaps a final one, Twelfth Brother's loyalties are always questioned, and this... this would truly solidify his place within the Empire.

It doesn't stop the breath from being sucked from his lungs, like he's seventeen all over again, writhing on the floor of Nur's underwater base, suffering the consequences of destroying the holocron before Lord Vader could collect it.

That child died that day, knowing no one would come for him. No one would rescue him, take the pressure from his neck and stop the darkness from consuming him.

He thought Cere was dead.

He takes a step inside, automatically, like the will of the Empire alone could drive him forward.

She doesn't recognize him, that much is clear. These days he doesn't recognize himself. He doesn't know why the sight of her alighting her saber before him fills him with so much despair and anger.

She wasn't dead. She was fighting the Empire as she's always done, creating what looks to be an attempt of a new Jedi Archive while scattering refugees across the galaxy in futile attempts to hide them.

She is alive.

And she didn't come for him.

He deactivates one of his blades in response; a unique trait of his, it seems, is that when he's serious, he only needs one end of his hilt to be singing. The other Inquisitor's use their two blades as a form of intimidation, and speed, even in one on one battles. They lack the focus of a single blade, the strength they can put into a duel. It's how he defeated Ninth Sister on that damned tree, and how he brought Second Sister to her knees. It's how he still continues to surprise sparring partners.

"You're an Inquisitor," Cere says, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. "How did you find this place?"

"Nothing stays hidden from the Empire for long," The Twelfth Brother responds, thankful for the helmet modulating his voice. Would she recognize his voice if it were clear? Would she care? "They send me to make sure of that."

She twirls her stunning blade in anticipation, a gracefulness to her movements that the Twelfth Brother hasn't seen before. She's grown since the last time he's seen her. She's healed, despite losing Trilla. Despite losing him. His knuckles go white around his lightsaber hilt.

"Surrender," The Twelfth Brother says, something that Inquisitor's don't often offer. There's weakness within him, one that's afraid of what will happen if their blades cross. "Your efforts are useless, giving in to the Empire is the only way to survive. Lord Vader will not stop until you and everything you hold dear are dead."

She readies her weapon, face firm and unchanging as she lets the air sit painfully thick around them.

"No."

The Twelfth Brother feels his throat constrict, but he readies his stance. "I'm sorry."

He doesn't say it loud enough for her to hear. He doesn't say it on purpose, either.

Because, as his legs take him forward, he can feel the betrayal and anger stirring within him. She's alive. She's alive and she never came for him. She escaped without him, leaving him to be tortured and mutilated and used. Merrin, Greez... he'd forgiven them, or forced himself to forget about them. Greez couldn't face Inquisitors on his own, and Merrin had only just learned of the Empire.

But Cere left him.

It's just as Trilla said. She betrayed him too.

He lets the anger fuel him forward. Sparks fly as two blades meet for the first blow, locking immediately in bursts of blue and red light. Cere holds gracefully against him, her eyes boring into the red lines of his visor. It's like she knows she has an effect on him, perhaps not knowing why, but still prepared to use that against him.

The blades unlock, and the Twelfth Brother begins a brutal assault; stiff anger driving him further on offense than what he'd usually toe the line of. Cere meets every blow, quick and precise, showing the skill she's crafted over decades of experience. He wouldn't be able to beat her normally, but he has a tool she does not.

The Dark Side.

The battle continues, the Twelfth Brother brings down his weapon brutally and quickly, wearing down Cere's stamina until they lock again, the silence between them broken only by screaming sabers. He shoves her backwards, curling his fingers into the Force and pushing her away.

She grunts, stumbling slightly but quickly finding her balance. They stand off against each other, the Twelfth Brother not trusting his vocal chords as she regards him, assessing his danger and her strategy.

The Twelfth Brother twirls his blade, getting irritated by the lack of action. He needs to kill her, but he doesn't know if he can with his brain turned on. He needs action, flow, adrenaline. He needs to strike her down before he can even think about it, and let it consume him later.

So he takes a step forward, and her jaw hardens, meeting him head on.

They clash, blades whipping through the air quicker than the eye can see; proof that lightsabers are a weapon for only those who understand the Force. He keeps the assault going, nothing but silent rage driving him on, until he finds an opening and dives for it.

She grunts, ducking under the blow, her back hitting the nearby burning wall of her destroyed archive.

The pause in combat tears at him, so he blindly follows up, going for her heart.

She dives again, swinging her saber up and dangerously close to his wrists. He loses his balance, allowing her to gain distance, her posture going fully on defense while he seethes.

Or so he thought.

Next thing he knows, his world is consumed by debris and fire. He just barely manages to dodge out of the way of a beam that would have killed him before everything collapses.

Pain rips through him; she's dropped the whole wall down on him. His head spins and shards tear through his plastoid armor, burning his skin and drawing rare drops of blood that don't usually appear from lightsaber battles.

He gags on smoke, coughing, ears ringing but knowing he's lost his voice modulator. He's lucky he's so thin and agile, if he had been any slower or had been a bigger target, he'd be crushed.

But no, he's able to still move his aching limbs, find the Force, and scream with a burst of power. The debris flies away from him, hands shaking and skin searing from the embers melting plastoid to his body.

The red tint of his visor is gone, and hot air brushes exposed skin on his face. As Cere’s eyes widen in shock, he realizes his helmet has been cracked apart, exposing his face

"Cal," she breathes.

He wants to curl up and die.

But he doesn't. He lets anger and betrayal take over. His free hand moves to rip the broken helmet off his face, exposing every detail, every human feature. His hair has grown since she last saw him, it pools down his jawline, sweat-slicked and tangled. Her eyes are drawn to the left side of his face, where robotic parts replace his ear. He'd lost it in one of those first spars he had against his fellow Inquisitors. The Ninth Sister was eager for revenge, but apparently Lord Vader had banned her purposely severing one of his hands. His psychometry was a tool he didn't want damaged.

But his ear? Replaceable with an audio processor, a small sphere-like shape that covers the remains.

"Surprised to see another one of your failures, Cere?" The Twelfth Brother snarls, stalking through the debris, not even feeling the flames licking at his legs as he walks. He feels nothing but the curling anger as she has the audacity to look pained and devastated.

He's seen how she reacted to seeing Trilla as an Inquisitor, he recognizes this look. Guilt, disbelief, despair echoes through the Force, strong enough that the Twelfth Brother knows he'd be able to revisit this moment whenever he wished through the memories imprinting themselves into the Force here.

"Cal... I thought you were killed," she gasps. "When I found BD-1... Your blood..."

He'd nearly died. Lord Vader was angry that he had destroyed the holocron. He'd been run through with his own lightsaber, suffocated with an invisible hand around his throat, the trauma inflicted on his body making him cough blood.

When he blacked out, even he was surprised to wake up again in one of those chairs.

He nearly wished he had died.

Or maybe, he did die.

The person he's now is nothing like that naive Padawan.

"You left me," the Twelfth Brother, Cal's corpse, snarls. "You never looked."

"Cal," she says his name yet again, mourning wavering her voice. "I would never had left if I'd known-"

"Liar," he hisses, stalking ever close, shaking. "Liar. What they put me through... you've been here, moving on like I meant nothing?"

She lowers her lightsaber, eyes glistening, the Dark Side curling along the edge of her presence. "I never forgot you," she whispers, but there's regret and shame. "You and Trilla... you became my strength. We can still fix this Cal, you don't need to suffer any longer."

"There's nothing left to fix."

"Yes," she breathes, emotions thick in the air, in her voice, in his gut. "Yes, there is. I know you, Cal. You're a survivor, and becoming this is what you had to do to survive. But it can be different now, you can come home. We can bring you back. You're alive, and it's a gift, and you have to choose."

"I won't give up on you, Cal," Cere says, widening her stance and lifting her lightsaber. "Not again."

The Twelfth Brother doesn't reply, just screams and charges forward.

There's something that Master Yoda used to teach among the younglings. With the return of the Sith, the Dark Side was often a conversation among frightful children unlucky enough to be young during the wars.

It's powerful, yes. Quick to obtain. But not necessarily stronger than the Light Side.

Anger blinds him, and while it drives him to aim at her neck, some broken part of him screams helplessly... it also doesn't allow him to see Cere masterfully keep her cool. His foolish, rage induced charge, is parried, thrown off course, and used against him. Something snaps in his wrist, and his lightsaber flies from his hand. He screams as her blade continues into his cracked defense, slicing his thigh and bringing him to the ground with a pained yowl.

The smell of smoke is so strong, stinging his eyes. Surely, that's the reason he finds himself crying as she kneels before him, a safe distance, his lightsaber in her hand. "Cal," she chokes on that name. "Please."

And the galaxy stills. His fear has met a climax, and he knows it will drive him no further. She's there, alive, kneeling before him, reaching out like all he needed to do to make the pain go away was to grab it.

He can't kill her.

He can't.

He can already feel Darth Vader's disappointment. He can already predict what this failure will bring. Perhaps the Twelfth Brother will be given some mercy, because he tried. He tried so hard to succeed on this test.

But he's failed. He always fails.

He curls in on himself, glaring at her through the tears. He wishes she hadn't survived, like he had thought. It would have been so easy to continue if he'd never have to feel her warmth ever again.

She reaches out to him, and he's on his knees before her... and there's movement behind her back.

One of his Purge Troopers.

A blaster aimed for shoulder-blades.

And pure desperation moves his body on puppet strings. He grabs her with the Force, and she calls out in shock, but he doesn't hurt her, or hold her there. A feral, broken part of himself pushes her to the side, because he can't kill her, and he can't watch her die again either.

The blaster is fired, and it goes flying past the space she used to occupy, and tears straight through his chest instead.

-oOo-

For the second time in his miserable life, he wakes up when he should have died.

He's on his back, every inch of his body in discomfort or pain, centering on his chest, wrist, and thigh. He groans, attempting to shift, but his movements meet resistance.

His eyes open, a shiver washing over him. He's been restrained to a cot; they're the type of restraints that block the Force.

Panicked, he tugs on the cuffs. He tries to sit up, but the pain surges and his vision whites out, causing him to collapse for an unknown amount of time.

The next time he can see, his vision is blurred and his ears are ringing. There's the shape of a person besides him, feeling at his forehead, whispering words of comfort.

He's hurt badly, they're getting help, he needs to hold on. Hold on for her.

Hold on for Cere.

He cuts off a sob, choosing to curl the fist belonging to his unbroken wrist, clinging to his betrayal and aching. "Where..." he gasps, "where are you taking me?"

Cere brushes his sweaty hair from his head, then adjusts the bacta patch on his chest. Her face is creased, and worried. Her hands are soft, and light. "A rebel base," she replies. "I've had contact with some players for some time now. They've agreed to... provide a secure place for you..."

"Imprison me," he swallows.

"Only until you're healed, and you've agreed to help our side. It wasn't easy convincing them, but as... as an Inquisitor... you have insider information that can be vital for the rebellion."

"I can't betray the Empire," the Twelfth Brother says brokenly. "I can't."

"I know you feel trapped now, Cal," Cere says, her hands returning to his face, caressing his cheek, fingers brushing the lobe of his remaining ear. "And it may take time. But I'll help you get there. I promise. I will not abandon you. Not this time."

The Twelfth Brother closes his eyes, a sob breaking through his throat, tearing at the aching in his chest, as he childishly leans into her touch. "It's too late, it's too late..."

"No," she whispers, "not for you. Not to me.”

Notes:

It's implied that BD-1 and Bode are killed in this timeline, but they weren't. Bode escaped with Kata somewhere, and BD-1 was repaired. Also Cere takes Cal to the rebels and he eventually joins the good guys again and does fun missions with Ahsoka, Kanan, and Ezra, while being ✨Traumatized✨ about it. I have ideas about this AU but I think this works great as a stand alone unless people really want it or I finish Rebels and decide I need Cal and Kanan interactions. Anyways lmao hopefully this was enjoyable for whoever decided to read this <3

#jedi fallen order #jedi survivor #cal kestis #cere junda #inquisitor cal kestis #fanfiction #jin writes #ask to tag

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saltnpepperbunny · 6 months ago

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BEACON- Prologue: Awakening

Hey all, and welcome to Beacon! This fic like actually exists again, hiatus is (mostly) over! This is a PMD story about my mareep character Calamus (he/they). Calamus started as a RP character, and thus his story is written. I plan to write this story in a similar style to Till World's End, but it will be a lot longer than TWE!

I'll probably start posting regularly when I have a substantial number of chapters written. I'll try to post weekly when I'm ready. For now, enjoy this rewrite of the prologue! This chapter remained public during the hiatus, but the prose was three years old, so I decided to just write it anew.

Last note, this story is rated TEEN AND UP! The content warnings will be made available on the cover when I post it. Also please note that the content warnings may update as the story goes along (I'll notify when this happens). Sensitive readers, take care!

NEXT: Chapter 1: Perfection (coming soon) >

COVER AO3

This story is rated Teen+! Content Warnings listed on the cover!

* * *

In the depths of the gorge beneath a fallen castle, where within a kingdom thousands of years strong had collapsed in a single night, a body opened its eyes.

What had lay dead now sparked to sudden life. Its lungs twitched with the beginnings of breath. The electric spark of impulse returned to its muscles. A tremor ran through its limbs, bringing sensations of stiffness, a dull ache. Movement, at the moment, was impossible. The body saw nothing around it but darkness. It blinked slowly, registering its eyes had opened, and yet still, surrounding it, a relentless pitch black. Its ears registered silence. As it scanned the environment, the shadows bent into the shapes of tall stone walls, ridges of black sedimentary rock, the shallow divot of the dry riverbed like a wooden manger. Regained, slowly, was the ability to feel.

That trembling dull ache gave way to agony. It realized it was in pain.

The corpse sucked in a shredded breath. Its lungs spasmed to life. It coughed and gagged and wheezed as excruciating pain convulsed through its limbs, its flanks, its head. Good Zapdos, everything hurt! It had never hurt like this in all its terminated life! All it could do was tremble, squeeze its eyes shut as tears pearled at the corners of its lids. Every gasp of air racked the body with pain. Though it had once known comfort, no gentle hand reached out from the darkness to pull away his hurt with delicate fingertips. No helpful other stirred.

Just a dead body, returned to life. At the bottom of a gorge. Alone.

It tried to remember, looked into a brain swamped in darkness. Where had it come from? Why was it here? Why was it now alone? It pulled into its memory, traced along a synapse into the story of the being that had become this corpse. Around it, still darkness. The night had yet to lift. It was night, wasn’t it? It had been night when…

Its eyes stretched wide. The corpse remembered another life.

“No force on earth can quash that which is absolute. My child, my life, through our blood, you are immortal…”

“Shhhhh, my golden, it’s okay. You have all the time in the world…”

“Promise you’ll never leave me, Cal. Promise me…”

“For Zapdos’s sake, Calamus, RUN—”

No…

No…!

NO!

A new kind of pain washed through it like black clouds rolling in. Despair rose in it like rain filling a storm drain, an agony that came streaming to its eyes and in burning streaks down its cheeks. From its throat came a hiccupping sob. It laid its head down, covered its eyes with its hooves, and cried. The pain came out in snot and in tears, in wheezing gasps, in shaking and clutching and its tail wrapping around the body. In its life it had never known a pain like this. It had never known an agony that threatened to rip its body open on its way out, that dragged its mind down into unyielding black, became the whole world in that dark place. It threatened to drag it back to death.

Day had yet to break. That meant it was still this night. This single night had been all it took to destroy the immortal kingdom. To destroy the Immortal Dynasty. Only hours before, the setting sun had cast the castle above in a golden aura, and from its highest balcony, the King had stood tall. The Queen had stood at his side. And behind them, back behind the great glass doors, the Prince had watched from their shadow cast. He saw his parents look out over that which was theirs: The city sprawling wide and far past the castle gates, beyond it the peaks of gray stone mountains cutting into the clouds.

Last evening, the setting sun had cast the monarchy in the blinding light of the gods.

And when the sun inevitably rose once again, that monarchy would be gone.

One night. One night. It didn’t even seem real. How could anything change so fast, let alone what was supposed to be immortal? It grasped at broken promises, the crumbling picture of a future now brought to ruin. Its chest, wet with the pain of a home lost. It wept and wept, despair weighed over it like a heavy black cloak, and in its mind coalesced the single question of what to do now. With bruised muscles and wet cheeks, amidst the rocks and the dust, there seemed to be no answer. And that made it afraid.

The body wished it could fall back asleep and wake up in a better world, a place where burdens need not be carried. A place without pain.

Then it realized, it could.

The body was still in pain. Its bruised muscles tremored, its head split, its breaths sagged. Everything it had ever known and loved was gone. Someone had once told it that it was the body of the kingdom. Its voice, its blood, its heart. If that kingdom was now gone, and with it, the monarchy… Surely that meant it, too, should now die?

Its vision became fuzzy. The black faded into something darker. The pain began to ebb. In that moment, the body realized that it could be okay, perhaps, with dying. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? The burdens it carried, now with the added weight of this night’s events, would lift. Its worries, its loathing, its pain: All of it would be gone. A corpse, after all, was not supposed to breathe or hurt. Maybe it was just being stupid. Why had it even awoken in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been so much easier just to run, fall, hit the ground, and never wake up again?

But now, unfortunately, it had a choice.

It faced a crossroads, and neither path called. Did it risk the unknown of death or the unknown of life? It was one thing to long for the sleepful embrace of the end, but another thing entirely to stare the choice down. To become the one who held the scythe to your own throat. Sleep called, and oh how it longed, but to reach it through the sharp bite of the blade into his neck… The idea drew fear as much as the other choice: To step into a new world ripe with terrors and challenges the likes of which it had never dreamt. The unknown terrified it to the core, but the choice was in its hooves. It had fallen. But would it rise?

Could it?

. . .

It shifted a hoof to connect with the ground.

Another hoof shifted into place.

And then, steadily, shakily, gritting its teeth through the pain, the body rose.

Why did it rise? The question had no answer. Was it weakness that turned it from the reaper’s hand? An unwillingness to face a comforting unknown, to commit? Or was it a newfound strength? It couldn’t be sure, and it never would. As it limped across the stone, sniffling, trembling, it turned its back on the temptation to lay down and let the world wash away. Maybe there would be help. Maybe that was possible? It seemed like a joke, but that single, small idea brought this dead body back to life.

A spark of electricity cracked across its wool.

As a corpse awakened and dragged itself up from the bottom of the world, with such a long journey ahead, it remembered five things about itself.

Its name was Calamus. He, sort of, was a boy. He was a mareep. He was heir to the throne of Lightbeacon, the eternal kingdom of the northeast.

And Lightbeacon’s ruling family—no, HIS family—as of this night, had ceased to exist.

#spb's writing #pokemon #mareep #pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon fanfic #pmd fanfic #pmd fanfiction #pmd beacon

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cinematicsoph · 2 years ago

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dress • ashton irwin blurb (a swiftsos special)

summary: Say my name and everything just stops, I don't want you like a best friend, Only bought this dress so you could take it off

warnings: spicy ish oops, only a couple uses of Y/N, no specific pronouns but reader is implied to be female, drinking, swearing

a/n: howdy do guys, gals, non-binary pals, and others :) i'm starting a new special!!! at least one blurb for the four 5sos boys are going to be based on taylor swift songs. i have a list of taylor songs that i think give off the vibes of the boys and will base blurbs on those songs. i'm so so excited because swiftsos is like my favorite thing to talk about. also this all started on twitter (surprise surprise LMAO). anyways. enjoy, loves :)

✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧✧ ˚ 　· 　. 　　 · 　˚ ✧

"Ash, no more marks," you say with a giggle and push him away. "I have too many to cover up already. I don't need more. Besides, we have to go. The guys are waiting for us."

"Let 'em wait. Stay here a little longer." His voice is muffled by your skin as he nuzzles his head into your neck.

"It's a party for you, Irwin! Come on, we gotta go celebrate your number one album." You grab the sheet and cover your body with it. Despite all that you and Ashton have been through, you're still slightly self-conscious about him seeing you naked outside of your...activities...together. You grab your clothes and head into the bathroom, closing the door with a sigh.

Your number one rule was always "Never get involved with one of the guys." But after one too many drinks and more shots than necessary a few months ago, you may or may not have woken up in your best friend's hotel room...naked. And then it happened again. And again. And almost every night since the first time. In your defense, he was good. Like really good. So good that apparently neither one of you wanted to stop. That's how you ended up in Ashton's hotel room (for the second night in a row) under his sheets. According to him, he needed "a confidence boost before going to the party." So—like any good friend would—you snuck into Ashton's room beforehand to give him the boost of confidence he needed.

After changing into your red cocktail dress and doing your makeup and hair, you open the door and walk out. "Your turn, pretty boy." He groans and pulls the blanket over his head. "Come on, Ash. The guys are waiting for you!" You giggle, though you're slightly annoyed, and walk over to the bed. You pull the blankets away from his face. "Get dressed." You leaned forward and kiss his cheek. "Or no more meetings," you whisper in his ear. That seemed to motivate him enough to get up and get ready because as you were walking out, heels in your hand and a smirk on your face, you hear him scrambling to get his clothes.

Since your "meetings" were supposed to be secret, you two decided to leave separately. You leave his hotel room and head towards the ballroom the managers booked for the day.

"Hey, pretty!" You hear a slightly drunk Calum yell at you as you walk in.

"Hey, handsome. How much have you had to drink?" You lightly kiss his cheek and then sit down next to him at the bar. It wasn’t unusual for you and Cal to be flirty with each other. Calum's flirty personality didn't phase you anymore. His compliments, pet names, and nicknames were all just fun and games to you. You're just glad Ashton isn't down here yet to hear you two.

“Only two!” He holds up three fingers in front of your face. Yeah, two bottles. You think.

“I think it’s time to cut you off, Cal,” you giggle and push his arm down.

“Y/N?” He finally made it downstairs. The way Ashton says your name makes your heart stop and your stomach does a thousand flips like it’s been a trained gymnast for years now. You didn’t know it was possible for a man, let alone your best friend, to make you feel this way. But it’s all platonic…right?

Flashback

“Come on, Calum. You said you would come with me to get my dress for the Billboard party,” you whine and give him your best puppy dog eyes. It’s his weakness. It’s all boys' weakness.

“Y/N/N, you have like three months to find a dress. Why do you have to go now?” Because your best friend convinced me to buy the dress I have been looking at for months now simply by calling me sexy once.

"Because I got paid today and don't want the dress I want to be bought before I get it! Duh!" You roll your eyes and drag Calum off the couch. "Come on, Cal! Please? I'll buy you coffee," you look him in the eyes and once again try the puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," he sighs and sits up. "But only because you're getting me coffee."

The red cocktail dress was like nothing you'd ever worn before. It was shorter than you usually wear, sexier than the other dresses you've worn, and you felt more confident in it than any other outfit you've ever worn.

It was beautiful. You felt beautiful in it. And it would look so much more beautiful on Ashton's floor.

"So? What do you think?" You step out of the fitting room and do a small spin in front of Calum.

"Y/N, you look beautiful," he says as he watches you. "No one is going to be able to take their eyes off you."

I’m only hoping for one pair of eyes.

End of Flashback

Time Skip

A few drinks and dances later, you are well past “tipsy” like you pretended to be.

“Love, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink.” Ashton puts his hand on your lower back and whispers in your ear. You had been drinking and dancing with the guys for a while now, you were having so much fun that you didn’t even realize how much you had been drinking. “Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.”

“‘M fine! Relax a little, Irwin. You don’t need to worry about me,” you drunkenly say and lean on him to steady yourself. Was the room always spinning like this?

“Guys, I’m going to take Y/N upstairs to hopefully sober up a bit. The party is starting to die down anyways, you guys should head to bed too.” He’s such a mom…it’s so cute.

He guides and helps you upstairs to his room, his hand hasn’t left your lower back since you were downstairs. Why does it feel like his hand is leaving a burning tattoo on my skin?

"Only you would manage to spill white wine on a red dress." He chuckles slightly and leads you into the bathroom. "Take off your dress, I'll send it to the dry cleaners, and get into the bath. I'm sure you're covered in alcohol." He walks out of the bathroom and grabs the pajamas you don't remember leaving here.

"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to get me naked?" You giggle and sit on the toilet, looking at the man towering over you.

"Now, come on. You know me better than that." He leans in closer to your ear. "I have much better methods for getting you naked," he whispers and then lightly kisses your cheek. You giggle and your face heats up (though that may be from the alcohol). "Just get in the bath, love."

"Only if you join me."

The water was starting to cool off but you wouldn't want to be anywhere else than in Ashton's arms. He's massaging your shoulders and quietly humming one of the songs he's been writing. You slowly start to close your eyes, the alcohol running out of your body and the relaxation coming in.

This isn't normal. Friends don't do this.

Yeah, well we're not exactly friends so...

Not exactly friends. Not exactly more. Or are you?

"Ash?" You whisper to him, wanting to keep the quiet atmosphere. He quietly hums back, letting you know he's listening. "Do you...Do you remember when we first met? We looked completely different. I mean of course we did, we were just kids in high school. I remember one day when my ex broke up with me. And it was messy. And I was a mess. I ran to you right away, I guess I didn't have anyone else. Even though I was ugly sobbing and at my very lowest point, you still saw the good." You sit up and look at him. Everything comes crashing down and suddenly you realize...you don't want him like a best friend.

"What are you getting at, my love?" My love...does he? Oh no, I'm shaking. Is it the cold or the nerves? Please be the cold. "Y/N/N? You're shaking, come on, let's get out."

"Ash, just wait. I-I'm trying to tell you something." You sit on the opposite side of the very very small bathtub, looking at him. "You pulled me out of all my darkest moments, you still are. Hell, you do it even when I sleep! I wake up right before it gets bad because of you. And you pull me closer to your side and whisper 'It's okay, love. I've got you.' You've got me, Ash. I couldn't escape even if I wanted to."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He looks hopeful. That's a good sign...right?

"I'm in love with you, Ashton Irwin. I love you more than a best friend, or a friend with benefits, or whatever the hell we are. I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine," you say nervously. Please don't hate me.

"I'm already yours, y/n." He smiles and kisses you.

"I can't believe you had no idea. Did you not see how I reacted to all those guys looking at you?!" You two are cuddled up in his bed, talking about how dumb both of you are for not noticing your feelings for each other.

"No one was looking at me! You're delusional."

"It was because of that dress you were wearing! You looked stunning in it. No one took their eyes off you!"

"Can I tell you a secret?" He nods, eagerly. He's always loved knowing secrets. "I only bought the dress so you could take it off."

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #ashton irwin x reader #cinematicsoph #swiftsos

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calumxkisses · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet Creature | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: i think implied smut?

summary: request - Heeyyy, can you do one, where they have a big fight and they are in quarentine, and they stop talking to each other, and the sleep in different rooms, with cal... kiss from brazil 🇧🇷

a/n: this is one of my favorite song! let me know what you think about it! i hope you enjoyed it ;)

you should read this imagine while listening to: sweet creature

➳

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a scream comes out of your lungs. Your face has turned red, your head hurts and you feel your heart pounding. Your throat is now dry and you feel your nails sticking into the palm of your hand.

What Calum notices, however, are the tears running down your face and the pain behind your eyes. What hurts him the most, though, is knowing he is the cause of your pain. He would like to hug you, tell you that he is sorry, that he loves you and that he doesn't even remember why you are fighting, but his pride prevents him from being the person he would like to be. The person you are in love with.

“All you do is whine.” he screams out, rolling his eyes and letting out a snort.

This discussion was the straw that broke the camel's back, filled by being forced to stay at home, by a canceled tour and canceled parties but, above all, by the concern of a world that is in chaos, with a fatal virus that spreads like wildfire.

He is worried, he feels the burden of not having to disappoint anyone, of being a good person who says the right things, of being a child who cares about their parents who live on the other side of the world and cannot go to visit, reassure, and that he can only see through a mobile phone screen.

“I have a right to be angry, you know that, right?” Your voice calms down a bit, but anger still runs through your veins. You walk up and down the room, with one hand on your forehead and being careful not to step on the broken glass of the fallen vase.

Calum has spent the last few weeks in the studio, out in the garden practicing, or locked in a room, anywhere but with you. He preferred to wake up early and go to sleep late, feel cold instead of holding you and skipping meals to avoid being with you.

For the first time in days, you get a good look at him: his hair has grown, as has the beard surrounding his face, he has terrible dark circles and the vein on his neck comes out prosperous, underlining how much he is screaming.

You felt abandoned, alone, left on the sidelines, and your feelings were amplified by the impossibility of going to someone, just to escape from that situation, to be held by someone else or just to talk over a coffee with a friend.

The only thing you could have done, was to ask him why, what you had done to deserve such treatment, and to spend some time together. And that’s where the scream started.

Tears roll down your face and you run your hand under your eyes to wipe them away. If you didn't notice them before, now the pinch caused by their wake has become hard to ignore.

“Are you going to cry now? God, you’re making me regret being with you. I really wish you weren’t born.”

Calum feels the pain it caused you before even reading the expression on your face. He puts his hand in front of his mouth in hopes of being able to block the words, but they have already left his lips and have come straight into your ears, getting stuck under your skin and breaking even the last pieces of the broken heart you have left.

His words hit you like a bolt from the blue. Arguing often leads to saying unthinkable words and among all the things you've been yelling at each other in the last hour, some bad words have certainly escaped, but nothing so terrible.

You feel a pain in your chest never felt before, deep and intense, and even the tears stop flowing. You inhale deeply, seeking relief in a breath of air and waiting for your body to react in any way, all is better than feeling full of pain. The room starts spinning, your head feels full and empty at the same time, and your legs struggle to bear the weight of your body.

Calum carefully scans your face, looking for any reaction from you to understand how much your mind has absorbed his words. His stress, his worries have led him to be a different person and the fear that you may leave him has terrified him, but his insecurities have done the opposite of what one expects, making he walk away from you and treating you coldly, and now he fears that he is really on the verge of being alone, with his broken heart in his hands, ready to mend every wound himself.

You didn’t deserve this.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.” You whisper, lifting your face and looking him straight in the eye. The words he used, the coldness of his tones and the loneliness in which he left you have piled on top of each other on your chest, making it difficult for you to even breathe. You need time, space, whatever helps you figure out what to do.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a shaky voice. His eyes are glossy, his hands are shaking and his face has lost color. His heart carries so much goodness and you know it wasn't his intention to hurt you, but his words were like stab wounds and you need to take care of them now.

You don't want to leave, and not because you can't take a plane, but because Calum means too much to you and leaving is not an option to consider. If it ever ends up between you, after all you've been through, it should be in a more dignified way and not because of a stupid fight and insincere words.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room for a while and then we’ll see what to do.” Is all you can say and all you can do.

“So you’re not leaving?”

“I don’t think so, at least not now.”

Silence.

And that silence means everything and nothing.

You pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and, after casting one last look at the boy in front of you, you take refuge in a room that doesn't belong to you. The air in the guest room is different, you can't breathe the love that characterizes every corner of yours and Calum's and even the sheets seem different, cold, painful. You put a hand through your hair and lean on the door, slowly sliding towards the floor and letting go of your frustration.

Calum closes his eyes and puts his hands to his face as his body slumps onto the sofa behind him. The house reigns in silence, the only audible sound is your sobs in another room and, before he knows it, he starts crying too. He doesn't care about wiping his face or stopping the moans that come out of his mouth, he deserves to feel awful and humiliate himself like that, the guilt is devouring him and he just thinks about how he wishes he could disappear, to make your life easier.

When you first met, he knew you were the right person from the first look you gave him. Behind your eyes, deep in the irises, there was a whole world, made of kindness, love and joy. You had your demons, but the strength you emanated made it clear that you were able to overcome them, even without knowing it. A world that he wanted to discover, with delicacy and patience, and in which he wanted to live.

But what he feared most was bringing darkness into the light you emanated, turning your smiles into tears and your heart into a mass of sharp pieces.

He had told you, while you were eating some heated pizza on a rainy morning, your legs were on his and your face on his shoulder. And you had caressed his face, wiping away the dirt on his lip with your thumb, assuring him that you would have love him anyway and that you would have happily shared some of your light, and then you had kissed him, and that kiss tasted like tomato sauce and love, a combination you still love with all your heart.

And now, the only thing he can do, besides pitying himself, is wondering if you're regretting sharing your joy with him, if you'd rather stay full of light instead of welcoming his demons. And he fears your answer is yes.

Duke rubs his face on his leg, asking for scratches but also showing his affection. He doesn't know what happened and Calum wonders if the dog, who loves you more than any other person has crossed the threshold of your home, would look at him differently knowing that he broke the heart of the person he loves most.

If so, as his mind is trying to convince him, he couldn't handle it. He would not be able to live knowing that he has let down another being he cares about. Because he cares about you, but it is difficult for him to show it, the fear of rejection is stronger than he would like.

So, he lowers himself a little and gently strokes the dog, hoping to be able to receive that affection he is so afraid of losing.

As Calum's world shatters before his eyes, you take care to gently reassemble what's left of yours. You're still on the floor, getting up takes too much energy and a motivation that you can't find.

How you feel about the guy down the hall cannot be described in words, there is no way to describe what his gaze makes you feel, the way his words reassure you or how his love warms your heart up. It just works like this. Your love does not need big gestures or difficult words and never like now, it is better to absorb the silence and be lulled by the air.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain silent, let the cold of his words slip on you and learn to live in the loneliness in which he left you, but you couldn't go on like this. Not fighting would have meant not caring about him or your relationship and that's exactly the opposite of how things are. He had to know how you felt and what you were missing.

The sweet sound of his voice or the warmth of his skin are essential for you, not only on a love level, but in the daily routine of your life. A routine that had changed, which was no longer full of joy and smiles, light and perfume, but of demons that wandered undeterred around the walls of your home, ready to bring the cold into your souls.

And that routine, once full of love, was now non-existent. No more words had been said between you, no meal had been eaten together and your bed had forgotten what love meant. The stars, ever present witnesses of the passion that surrounded your bodies, were now always absent, covered by gray clouds and black skies. Even the moon, which guards all lovers, shone with a paler and more blurred light.

The moon gave way to the sun, the grass grew and the days alternated on the calendar. And yet, it seemed to you that you were still still that afternoon. Sure, breathing had become less difficult and the tears had stopped flowing on your face, but even in the middle of spring the coldness brought chills on your body.

You have no idea what he is doing, occasionally you see the shadow of his shoes behind the door of the guest room or you hear broken melodies coming from the studio, but his face becomes more and more unknown.

You spend your days studying, working, playing with Duke or reading your favorite books. You wake up late and go to sleep early, hoping to feel less lonely.

The truth, however, is that you miss him immensely, like water in the desert or milk after eating spicy food. You need to be able to get lost in his eyes or just hold his hand. The headache meds don't work like his kisses on your forehead, and no number of blankets could bring you the same warmth that a hug from him gives off.

You feel so pathetic to need him by your side, but after so many years of loneliness, he was able to convince you that you were worthy of being loved just like everyone else and, specifically, that he would love you more than anyone else. And he had done it, always and anyway, for the sake of the joyful news and the bad of your depression, he had always been there, ready to show you that you were worth it.

He wants to do it, he wants to continue to hold you and to tell you how beautiful you are, how honored he feels to be the keeper of your heart and the champion of your love, but he believes that no apology would bring serenity to your sky.

What is he supposed to do? No words would express the humiliation he feels whenever he thinks back to your fight and his behavior, no hug or kiss would bring love into your broken heart.

He spent his nights awake, the insomnia caused by his thoughts was making it impossible for him to live. The table seemed too big and the bed too uncomfortable, the bass was always out of tune even as he spent hours adjusting its strings and no melody seemed catchy enough to lift your mood in the other room. He knew that when you were sick, listening to him play brought some peace to your troubled world, but now no sound would chase the bad weather away.

None of his gestures would be enough to show how bad he feels. Nothing can express the pain he feels and the regret of his words.

However, 3 years of relationship is enough for him to know what makes you smile. There is one song in particular, in the immense repertoire that is your music library, that you love to hum and listen to when the silence is too loud.

So, wearing his best shirt and trying to fix the clump of his hair, he sits down at the piano in the living room and, after taking a deep breath, he tries to voice his thoughts.

Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

As you put down your favorite book after reading it again, Calum's sweet, broken voice spreads throughout the house, bringing a sense of comfort to your heart. You can hear the pain behind his voice, and even though you know your wounds will take some time to heal, the words he screamed at you lose their value. One part of you is still angry but the other, curious and in love, wastes no time getting you out of bed and walking towards the room.

The piano overlooks the garden, the sun shines above and illuminates all the plants. Duke is chasing a butterfly, its tail wags quickly and some leaves are stuck in its fur. Calum has his back to you, his back leaning slightly forward as he looks outward, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

You lean on the door jamb that separates the two rooms and close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the music and breathing regularly, giving your body respite from all the accumulated stress.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

Calum watches the garden as the lyrics of the song automatically come out of his mouth. He was never good at playing the piano but, during the nights spent away from you over the years, he promised himself to learn all your favorite songs so he could sing them to you whenever you needed them.

And while Duke rolls around in the grass, he can't help but think about the thousand picnics you had on that same lawn, the laughter you shared and all those moments when he always fell in love a little more looking at you.

And even if the song doesn't belong to him, he can still feel every single word and a small tear falls down his face.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You take a few steps forward and, after taking a deep sigh, sit next to him. Calum winces at the contact but his face turns into a big smile after seeing you. He doesn't know if you're still mad at him or if his singing worked, but being able to see you again after so many days spent in agony brings a sense of peace to his messed up world. He knows that this song is not enough, that he will have to prove a lot more to you - even if you will probably forbid it - but knowing that he has you there, frees him from a weight that he carried inside.

And as usual, there is no need for words, he just needs to feel your head resting on his shoulder to know that you have come back to him. And when your hands touch his, he feels at home again.

Almost automatically, your hands begin to move to the rhythm of the music and your fingers touch the keys of the piano, accompanying Calum in the melody, just as he taught you.

Duke is rolling in the grass, the butterfly now forgotten, and his happy face is illuminated by the sun. It seems that the sky has returned to shine too, not just your eyes, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly again.

I know when we started

Just two hearts in one home

It gets harder when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You'll bring me home

There was no need to talk to him, or to explain, risking losing you was necessary for him to understand that something was wrong, that he had to find the right path, that you can risk skidding, the important thing is getting back on track.

“I am grateful to your mother for bringing you into the world, but even more grateful to you for being a part of my life. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. I love you and I always will.” He whispers, placing his hands on his thighs, as soon as he finishes singing the last words. His words are sincere, you can perceive the displeasure behind his tone and you know he believes what he says.

He kisses you on the forehead and, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, he rests his face on your head, closing his eyes and absorbing the silence, a cautious silence, full of peace and fresh air.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, closing your eyes in turn and letting yourself be lulled by the peace and serenity found. You know that everything will be fine, that even if you’ll have other fights, you will always find a way to get back to each other.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum imagine #calum x reader #calum hood x you #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood x reader #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #ashton 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #michael 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos

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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Steps

harry lewis x fem!reader

Request: Can I have an imagine where Harry accidentally gets you pregnant but no one knows your dating and you are scared to death but he is really good and it all is okay in the end and the rest of the sdmn are very supportive in the whole situation when they first find out about not only the two of you dating but also of the pregnancy. Thanks xx

I’m super open to doing a part two of this where baby w2s meets the uncles and we get super cute harry and baby fluff so lmk if thats something else i should add to the to do list

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

They were taunting you. The two lines on the stick. It was like they were laughing at you, enjoying the turmoil erupting in your gut. Maybe that was the baby making itself known. Who knows?

What was Harry going to say? Neither of you were ready for a baby, were you? Harry’s career was only growing at this point, the sky was well and truly the limit for the Sidemen and for Harry himself. You couldn’t jeopardise that with an accidental pregnancy. It could ruin everything.

You’d been safe, you were on birth control, for Christ's sake. Yet, here you were, having a face off with 3 pregnancy tests.

You texted your best friend, Gee, immediately, asking if you could come over. She replied instantly, worrying about you but telling you to come over whenever you wanted to.

“What’s wrong?”, Gee asked as soon as she opened the door to you. She looked up up and down, checking you for damage.

“I’m pregnant”, you whispered. “I was late and I thought it was just my birth control fucking around with me but I’ve been really ill the last couple of days and I just thought that I’d take a test and rule out that silly possibility because no way am I pregnant but I am and-”

“Breathe, Y/N”, Gee told you firmly, taking your hand in hers and dragging you over to the sofa. “It’s going to be okay”, she said softly, pulling you into her arms. “Does Harry know?”, she asked.

“No, I came straight here”, you whispered. “Oh, shit. The guys don’t even know we’re together. I think Freezy does but... Hi guys I’m actually Harry’s girlfriend surprise also surprise, I’m pregnant”, you said in a put on, over the top, happy voice. “My God, my life has gone to shit, Gee”, you huffed, slumping back onto the sofa.

“It’ll be fine. It’s your body, Y/N, and it’s your choice what you do with it. If Harry is supportive, that’s great. If not, you’ve got me, and the girls and Will and his friends. Whatever option you pick, you don’t have to do it alone”, Gee told you reassuringly, running her hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “You need to tell Harry and then you can take it from there”.

Gee let you sit with her for a little while longer, letting you calm down and get your thoughts together before you attempted to face Harry. You texted him, asking if he was free and if you could come over. He replied quickly, thank God, telling you to come over whenever you wanted.

“You can ring me whenever, okay? And if you need to come here after, you don’t have to ring, just come straight over. Let me know how everything goes, yeah?”.

The drive to Harry’s was stressful. You seemed to hit every red light possible, and every driver in front of you seemed to have zero sense of urgency. You tapped the steering wheel impatiently, flicking through the Spotify playlist you’d set when you left Gee’s.

By the time you’d parked up and gotten to Harry’s front door, you were practically shaking where you stood. The nerves were wracking through your entire body. Forget butterflies, there was a whole stampede going on in your stomach.

“Hey”, Harry smiled once you’d finally knocked on the door. “Are you okay? You don’t look too good”, he said, worry written plainly across his face.

“Is Freezy here or is it just us?”, you asked, chewing on your lip.

“It’s just us”, Harry said simply, taking your hand in his and guiding you over to the sofa. Once you’d sat down, he rested his hand on your knee. “You’re really worrying me, Y/N. What’s wrong?”.

“Promise you won’t be mad?”, you asked, voice small. Harry nodded, moving his hand to hold yours. “I’m pregnant”.

Harry seemed to lose all control of his face. His mouth dropped open slightly in shock and his hand around yours slackened. “I-”, he spluttered. “I thought we were safe”, he said quietly.

“We were”, you said, voice watery as tears started to fall. “There’s, like, a less than 1% chance. I’m so sorry”, you said, voice cracking slightly with emotion.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t cry”, Harry shushed. He seemed to snap back to reality there and then. He bundled you into his arms, carefully pulling you closer to him. He gently wiped the tears off of your face, leaving his hand there to cup your face. “Don’t ever be sorry”, he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you.

“But the boys and your channel and they don’t even know about us”, you rambled. “I don’t know what to do, Harry”, you whispered into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“It’s your choice, Y/N. It’s your body. I’m not going to force you to have a baby that you don’t want to have, but I’ll be there every step of the way if you choose to keep it”, Harry told you.

“What do you want?”, you asked him quietly. “In an ideal world, what do you want?”.

“Ideally? This would’ve happened a little bit later. But I love you, Y/N. I’ve known from day one that I love you. I want nothing more than to have a family with you and if thats a little bit sooner than we first thought, then so be it. But I’ll be here, no matter what decision we make. All I ask is that you include me. No matter what choice we make, I’m not going anywhere”, Harry said. His thumb came up to swipe at a few more tears that had fallen.

You looked at Harry in awe. “Of course I want this with you, Harry. There’s nothing I want more. Sure, a couple more years would’ve been great. But we can do this, right?”, you asked, voice wavering only slightly.

“Yeah, we can”, Harry smiled. His hand moved from your thigh to your stomach, cupping around what would become a bump in the next few months. “Hi, baby”, he cooed softly, dipping his head down to rest on your chest. “I love you and your Mummy so very much”, he hummed. A smile fell into place on your face as you let yourself bask in the soft moment for a little while.

“Do you want to tell your friends?”, you asked Harry a few minutes later.

“Yeah”, he said simply. “I wanna be a good dad to my baby and that has to start from now. I think they know I’ve got a girlfriend, but I want you to meet them properly finally. And I’ll tell them there and then about Harry Junior. If they can’t get on board, then that’s a them problem”, Harry said with a sense of finality.

“We are not calling this baby Harry Junior, no matter how great of a dad you are”.

You were nervous, but not nearly as nervous as when you’d told Harry that you were pregnant last week. You were sat with Harry on the sofa of his living room, waiting for the rest of the Sidemen to come around. You’d already told Cal, it was kind of hard to deflect the question when he came into the room to see Harry affectionately cradling your body and stomach.

“What if they hate me?”, you asked Harry, leg bouncing in anticipation.

“You know them already, sort of. They won’t hate you. You’re amazing”, Harry promised.

“Yeah but they don’t know me as your girlfriend or the mother of your child”, you stressed. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a knock on the door.

“That’ll be some of them”. Harry bounced up to open the door, returning to the room followed by Vik, Tobi and Josh. “I got a text from Simon, him and JJ are down the block in an Uber”, Harry said, quickly returning to his spot next to you.

You made small talk with the 3 boys and Harry until JJ, Ethan and Simon arrived. The wait couldn’t have been any longer than 5 minutes, but to you, it felt like a life time.

Once everyone was situated around the living room, Harry gestured at you awkwardly. “So, you know Y/N”, he started, sounding unsure of himself. He was met with a round of nods and ‘mhm’s. “We’ve been together for just over a year”, Harry said bluntly.

You were surprised by the lack of surprise in the room. “You dragged us all the way over here to tell us something we all already knew?”, Vik asked, looking around at the other boys.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a well kept secret, Harry”, Simon laughed with a smile on his face.

“Oh, well...”, Harry trailed off, blushing and spluttering slightly. “There is something else, though”, he said quietly. “You’ve said I’ve been a bit off the last week and it’s because I’ve really needed to speak to you lot about something”.

“You aren’t pulling a JJ, right?”, Josh asked with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t do diss-tracks again, man, it feels like a fever dream”, he whined. Everyone around the room let out a low chuckle and Ethan poked at JJ’s shoulder, purposefully trying to wind him up.

“No, it’s not about that”, Harry laughed nervously. Harry looked like he was trying to find the words, but he was too nervous to string any of them together to form a coherent sentence.

“Last week I found out I’m pregnant”, you said, squeezing Harry’s hand gently in your own.

The shocked faces almost made you burst out into laughter. Over the last week, it was all you and Harry had talked about and it helped the both of you come to terms with the reality of the situation. It was still daunting, but you knew that you weren’t doing it alone which lifted a massive weight off of your chest.

Shocked faces soon broke out into huge grins. “Congratulations!”, Josh beamed from the other side of the living room. “How far along are you?”, he asked you.

“I’m not too sure, I have a doctors appointment tomorrow because I need to know if my birth control will have done any damage. But I’d say maybe 8 weeks, give or take”, you smiled.

“You had a good time in Italy then, Harry?”, JJ teased from his spot in the chair, earning him a swift swat from Simon.

Harry’s face screwed up in confusion. “What does our anniversary trip have anything to do with - Oh...”, Harry trailed off, cheeks immediately setting alight with a pinkish red blush. You couldn’t help but giggle, leaning gently against Harry’s side. “Wait, how did you know about our anniversary trip?”, Harry asked.

“Like we said, Harry. You aren’t very subtle”.

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elenarodriiguez · 3 years ago

Text

tpr | a.g. & d.j. & m.m.

summary: termination of parental rights is never easy to face, especially when it’s the last thing anyone would want to happen.

pairing: andrew garner & daisy johnson & melinda may; andrew garner x melinda may

word count: 1046

read it on ao3

Getting the call from the social worker that a judge had signed off on a termination of parental rights for both Jiaying and Cal was a call that both Andrew and Mel had been dreading for months now. Daisy had been in their custody for a while now, coming up for three years this June, but even so, it was something one could never really prepare a child for.

They knew bits and pieces about her childhood with the Zabos, and while Jiaying and Cal weren’t able to care for her in a way that she needed them to, it didn’t mean their love for her didn’t come in spades. It was in the way Jiaying taught her new phrases in Hunanese every time they had supervised visitation, the way that Cal bought her flowers every time he saw her, the way they smothered her in love and adoration every second of every visit they had with her.

But the system wasn’t based on just those little moments, and unfortunately the judges had declared that they just weren’t capable of looking after Daisy on a full time basis. Andrew had reached out to her parents after the conversation with the social worker, just to check in and see how they were doing, but the hurt was still raw and while they’d been polite, the conversation hadn’t lasted longer than necessary.

When Daisy gets home from school, they sit the girl down right away and tell her what had happened, neither one of them offering up any sentiments of false hope or sugar coating it. She’s distraught, as they had both anticipated, and when she runs upstairs to her room, phone clutched tightly in her hand, they decide to leave her be.

The social worker has had very little to offer in terms of how they should go about contact in the future, neither Mel nor Andrew wanting to tear her away from her parents or her older half-sister. In the meantime, Andrew decides to get started on dinner, while his wife types up a draft email to send to the social worker and the Zabos in the morning.

They can hear the muffled screams and thudding noises coming from Daisy’s room, and while both of them want to rush in and take care of her, hold her in their arms, they know it wouldn’t do her any good. As Andrew carries on cooking dinner, Melinda decides to book an emergency appointment with Daisy’s therapist, Dr. Hand, for the next day, informing the woman that TPR has occurred.

When Andrew dishes up dinner, Mel heads upstairs and knocks on Daisy’s door, letting the young girl know that dinner was ready if she wanted to join them, and if she didn’t then she could take her plate upstairs. Going back into the kitchen, she thanks Andrew with a kiss on his shoulder before taking her plate and having a seat.

When they hear the heavy footsteps of their ward coming down the stairs, neither of them hold out for any hope that she’ll join them, but when she doesn’t leave immediately, Mel flashes her a smile and tugs Andrew down beside her.

“I’m not going to call you Mom, you know that right?” The teen says as she settles down at the kitchen table, sitting directly opposite her foster carers.

“I wouldn’t expect you to Daisy.” Melinda responds, staring at the angry looking teen.

“Because you’re not my mom. You take care of me, and I appreciate it, but you aren’t my mom. And I won’t call Andrew Dad either, because he isn’t my dad.”

Melinda nods and Andrew settles his hand on his wife’s forearm when he sees her hands clench as she resists the urge to reach out to the young girl.

“We know Daisy. Jiaying and Cal are always going to be your parents, we don’t want to replace them. And if adoption or permanent guardianship is a route you’d want to go down, then you should know it’d be for your sake, not ours.”

“We care about you, Daisy. But we aren’t going to do anything that would upset you, or your parents for that matter. Whether you’re legally ours or not, you will always have a place to call home here, and we will always keep you safe.”

“I know that Phil is gonna want to know now if you’re going to adopt me, but, can we wait? I don’t, I don’t know yet if that’s something I want. And uh, I wanna see Mom and Dad first, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is honey, I’ll tell Phil to hold off on bringing it up for the time being. Now, eat up, Andrew’s food doesn’t taste as good if it needs to be heated up.”

“Can’t be as bad as yours.” Daisy says without thinking, wincing as soon as she realises what she’s just said.

“I’ll let you off that one, for now. Now, eat your food, or else I might have to cook tomorrow.”

The laughter that comes from the threat isn’t as carefree as Daisy’s usually is, but it’s a marked improvement on her mood so Mel and Andrew decide to take it as a win. The rest of their meal is had in silence, Andrew holding his tongue despite the irregularity of the situation, and once Daisy is done with her food, she gets up from the table, putting her plate in the dishwasher and giving both adults brief but tight squeezes before running back to her room.

“She’ll be okay Melinda,” he says when Daisy’s door slams shut, “she just needs to process everything first.”

“I know that, but it’s just hard to see her like this. It’s so awful. We should let her take tomorrow off of school, give her some time before her therapy session to just feel lost.”

“Wow, look at you.” Andrew sidles up behind her and drapes himself on her back. “Melinda May, tiger carer extraordinaire, willingly letting a kid take a day off school without being nudged into it. I’m impressed.”

“Well, she deserves it, especially in a situation like this. Even if she is a mouthy little shit at times.”

“You’re not wrong there. But she’s a good kid.”

“The best.”

#marvel #agents of shield #meldrew #maydaisy #daisy johnson #melinda may #andrew garner #agents of shield oneshot #agents of shield imagine #daisy writes

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djadins · 4 years ago

Text

aurora glow | thrawn x f!reader — part two

warnings: if you squint there is fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.8k

Thrawn requested your company through the rest of the day in order to have you available for any questions he might have. You trailed behind him as he ordered his men around effortlessly. Some were scrounging in the woods around you, some were working on repairs. Others were guarding the perimeter that had been set up. The plan was to shut the backup power on the ship off at night when work had ceased and only to turn it on when work began again at daybreak.

You warned Thrawn that it got dangerously cold at night in the fall in this part of the country, especially now after the flare.

He did not seemed too concerned at this, as his men would return to their bunks at night unless they were on perimeter patrol. He mentioned that there was a place for you, too, to sleep on the ship and refused when you offered to sleep in the warehouse instead.

“Absolutely not. You may not be one of my men, but you are under my protection now and I will not have you sleeping out here alone.”

You wanted to mention that there in fact would be troops outside and that you may feel slightly more comfortable in semi-familiar territory (as you had been used to sleeping in whatever abandoned buildings or caves you could find) but you decided not to say anything. You had a feeling if you said what you were thinking, he would insist that you sleep in the ship anyways.

The sun was soon setting and your stomach groaned. You only had a breakfast of some foraged berries this morning and although you were used to eating light, it had been at least 12 hours since your last meal. Thrawn turned around to face you, chuckling slightly. The man he had been speaking to looked like you, but was not from Earth. He was in a greenish gray uniform, one of the men who had been working on repairs inside of the ship. “This is Ensign Eli Vanto, my translator and friend.” Thrawn gave Eli your name and he bowed slightly.

When Eli excused himself, you looked up curiously at Thrawn. “Translator?”

He hummed in response. “Yes, in the part of space I am from, we speak a language far removed from the common tongue. Although I was vaguely familiar with Galatic Basic, Eli was from a planet near to mine and we both could speak a different, common language. He then was assigned as my translator.”

You assumed Galatic Basic was like English, because you had been communicating with Thrawn this whole time without Eli.

“Once the ship is repaired and we are back on mission, I will do my best to tell you all about the galaxy. Eli will be able to fill in whatever I cannot.”

You murmured a thanks. “I would like to learn about your planet,” you said softly.

Thrawn seemed surprised at your statement. “I’d be happy to share it with you.”

You both walked in silence the rest of the way to where some men where preparing dinner. There were at least 10 fires going with large cauldron-like pots balanced on top of them. A thick, delicious smelling soup was inside, although you already knew that you would be unfamiliar with the ingredients. Thrawn had ordered all perishables to be used for dinner.

You were impressed by the efficiency of the men. They were clearly used to feeding a ship full of people, but still. Multiple tables had been moved outside of the ship to hold trays, plates, bowls, silverware as well as foods you did not recognize. What you assumed was fruits, vegetables and other side dishes.

Thrawn must have noticed how wide your eyes had become because he gently put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t realized how cold the end of the day was becoming until you felt the heat radiating from him. “Don’t worry if there is something you try and do not like. It took me a while to become familiar with my food preferences.”

You realized based on his last comment and this one that his part of space must really be separate from the Empire that he talked about. You had seen other men in his crew that did not look human-like, and more of what you had imagined aliens might look like, but there was nobody else so far of those you had seen that had looked like him.

At one point, he had gone through the same thing you were going through now.

Thrawn led the way, being the Captain allowed him the first meal. You being an honored guest meant you got to follow behind him. He passed you a tray with an empty bowl, plate and silverware on it. “If I may make a suggestion?”

You nodded in response. He hummed approvingly. “I’ll pick out your food based on my own personal preferences. If you see something you take interest in that I’ve missed, please add it to your tray.”

You nodded again and Thrawn’s lips curled upward. You followed close to him as he loaded both of your trays up with the same exact meal. You saw something that looked like raspberries that you added to you plate. At the end of the lineup, one of the workers filled both of your bowls with the chowder.

You followed Thrawn to a log not far away and were surprised when he sat on the ground, his back against the log. You both ate in silence next to each other, apart from the inquiries he had about the food’s taste. You were surprised at how much you liked everything on your tray, trying a bit of it all.

You became full rather quickly and knew that you should stop eating. This was entirely way more food than you had been used to in years.

“Everything alright?” he asked between bites.

“Very good, thank you. I’m just not.. not used to eating this much. I don’t want to get sick.”

Eli joined the both of you in that moment. He slid down on the other side of you against the log.

You listened as the men talked while eating about the state of the ships repairs so far. It sounded optimistic to you, but you knew that in reality you had absolutely no idea what most of it meant.

One of the soldiers started a fire in front of the three of you after the sun went down. Another man took your, Thrawn’s and Eli’s tray.

You looked across the encampment at your fellow Earthlings. They had been given a small tray filled with food to share amongst themselves, eating with hands bound in front of them.

Thrawn grabbed your attention when he noticed you observing them. “Do you have any suggestions on what we should do with them?”

You shook your head no. The laws of men no longer existed. “What would happen if they did this in the Empire?” you asked.

“They would be.. executed.”

You shivered, even with the heat of the fire and Thrawn’s body heat at your side. Though you weren’t touching each other, it was radiating off of him in a blaze against you.

“What would happen to them if your planet wasn’t in ruin?” came a voice from the other side of you.

Thrawn tsked at Eli’s carelessness even though he himself had admitted to you that your planet was dying just after meeting you. Thrawn noticed when you tensed up.

“They would probably be jailed,” you thought aloud.

The three of you looked over at your fellow humans. “We do have a brig, though I do not want them on the ship,” Thrawn admitted.

“We will watch them, for now. Depending on their behavior, we will let them go when the time comes for us to leave.”

You weren’t sure if he was saying that for you or Eli.

You watched the flames of the fire while Eli and Thrawn resumed talking about the plan for leaving. At one point you shivered and Thrawn immediately stretched his arm out behind you on the log. He was barely brushing against your back, but it was enough to warm you a little more.

Eventually Eli left to get some shut eye, leaving just you and Thrawn. You both sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying the night. If it weren’t for the bustling of his men around the various scattered fires or the patrols off in the distance, you might have fallen asleep out here next to him.

“Why don’t I show you to your room?”

You looked up at his eyes, shining and reflecting the fire. You nodded and he stood gracefully in one movement. He held his hand out towards you and easily picked you up on your feet when you gave him yours.

This time you walked just past what you remembered to be Thrawn’s office door. As the backup power was now off, he had to use one of those suction cup thingies to open your door. He waved you inside and you walked into the room in front of him.

The room was lovely and big. “Meant for any visiting dignitaries,” he explained, as if reading your mind. “I’m right next door if you need anything.”

Thrawn explained how to use the lantern and then left you to settle in. You unpacked what little you had in your bag — a few snacks (apples, nuts), a tattered, thin blanket, along with your rotating small pile of clothes. You had recently washed them all in a stream and folded them neatly to place into the dresser. You put your 9mm in between the stack.

Thrawn had noticed it earlier in the day and said that you wouldn’t need it while here, but if it made you feel safe, then you were welcome to keep it on your person.

You slipped out of your boots, putting the knife you carried inside under the fluffy pillow on the bed at the end of the room.

You pulled out your toothbrush and the plastic water bottle that you had filled yesterday and poured a little water on it. You swished the brush around your mouth for about two minutes and then put it on the sink top. You flicked your tongue over your teeth to make sure they felt smooth.

You refrained from looking at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom, instead opting to change into the clothing you usually slept in — a light pair of joggers and a baggy t-shirt.

You settled into the bed — it was surprisingly comfortable. Even with your blanket on top of you, however, the bedding provided little warmth. Now that you weren’t moving, you were starting to get very cold. You quickly slipped out of bed to put two pairs of socks on your bare feet.

It didn’t seem to help you much. Just as you couldn’t take it anymore and were about to put on every piece of clothing you owned, there was a soft knock at the door. Thrawn called out your name. “May I come in?”

You told him to come in and slipped out of bed to meet him at the door. Your teeth were nearly chattering but you closed your jaw tightly.

“I wanted to make sure you were getting settled.. are you alright?!?” Thrawn’s tone went from calmed to what you imagined was worried soon after he walked inside. You hadn’t seen this much emotion on his face since you had met this morning. He walked up to you and you resisted the urge to bury your face into the heat you knew his body would be giving off. “Your temperature has dropped drastically since I left.”

You couldn’t stop your teeth from chattering when you talked. “I.. its.. c.. c.. cold.. in h.. here.” An uncontrollable shiver ripped through your body.

Thrawn immediately enveloped you in his arms. Your tense body loosened in the warmth of his grip. He had changed out of his uniform and was wearing a tight black shirt and black pants similar to yours. You could see that his body was rather defined now that he wasn’t hidden under all that armor.

“This won’t do,” he said under his breath. You shivered again, but no longer because you were cold. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up bridal style. With one hand, he closed the door to your room and opened the door to his, the other supporting your weight.

After closing his door behind him, he carried you through his quarters. Past his desk in the door you had seen earlier, was a short hallway. Connected was a training room, bathroom and bedroom that you could see in your quick pass through.

He sat in his bed against the headboard, with you still in his arms. He positioned you in his lap and then brought his blankets up and around the both of you.

“Apologies, I did not realize. You warned me it would be cold for you tonight and I didn’t know the extent of it.”

You shook your head. “I mean it as a warning for everyone, but.. thank you.”

“I hope this doesn’t bother you, but it was my.. instinctual response.”

You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt to be touched by another person again after so long so instead you told him that it was okay with you.

He had one arm wrapped around you, supporting your back and reached onto his bedside table for a small looking tablet. When you peered at the screen, there was a bunch of letters arranged in words you did not recognize.

“I usually update my daily log at the end of the night. If it aggravates you, please let me know.”

You were surprised at the events that had transpired in the last few minutes. Not that he had been rude to you at all today, quite the opposite, but his attitude and demeanor were entirely different than they had been all day. Although you had seen a little bit more of his softer side when you had been alone with him, he had remained fairly impassive all day. He was commanding when talking to his men (well, except for Eli).

Now here he was, hoping not to disturb you after carrying you into his quarters. Keeping you warm, in his lap, in his bed. It was unexpected to say the least.

“I don’t mind,” you told him.

He began softly speaking in another language and as he did so, writing filled his tablet. You were mesmerized by it even if you had absolutely no idea what he was saying. He would pause every once in a while, or erase a few lines and change something.

His voice startled you out of your stupor. “Feel free to ask me anything, if you have questions.”

You hummed. “What are your people called?”

“Chiss. I’m from a planet called Rentor, in the Unknown Regions.”

You nodded at his pad. “And is this your native tongue?”

“Yes, its called Cheunh.”

You settled against his a little more. “It’s very pretty.”

He turned to face you a little more. “Really? Most other species I’ve encountered think it is harsh to the ears.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

He paused for a moment. “Are you warm enough?”

You nodded against his chest. After a few moments of silence, he continued his entry. When you heard your name, you looked up at him.

“Just recording everything that happened today,” he explained.

You listened to him for a bit longer, watched the letters appear on the screen, before the drowsiness pulled your eyes closed.

“Thrawn?”

“Mmm?”

You paused as you thought how to phrase your question. “Are you the only one of your kind in the Empire? Chiss, I mean.”

“..Yes.”

You understood it a little better now. You were both alone in your own ways and he recognized that piece of himself in you.

You were curious as to what he was saying every time you heard your name brought up, but were too tired to ask. You weren’t sure if that would be pushing it either, however you had a feeling that he was willing to answer most of your questions.

Your breathing was starting to slow down, you mouth slightly agape. You hadn’t opened your eyes since you initially shut them. You heard a light clank as Thrawn reached over and set his tablet back down on the table beside his bed. He shifted you off his lap and over to the side of the bed that you both weren’t currently occupying. You were hardly aware of what was happening, as sleep overcame you.

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too-lit-for-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

A Traitor In Our Midst

PART III OF III

PART I

PART II

PART III

And it’s done! What a wait! And for that we are very sorry. For a long time we just couldn’t finish this closing chapter in a way that felt right or akin to the characters and their little story so it has undergone several re-writes. This final part isn’t as long as those previous, or as technical, but we hope you enjoy! There’s fluff, so hopefully that makes up for it! Thank you everyone who has supported this little series! As always, constructive criticism is appreciated!

Summary: Cal Kestis x ex-Galactic Empire!OC, but can be treated like an x reader, ugly secrets from her past are resurfaced. In light of the truth Cal and crew no longer feel as if they can trust the newest member to the trio. Tempers flare, sacrifices are made, and the truth finally comes out.

Warnings: Torture is featured/referenced in this chapter so be warned. Angst, Blood, Violence, Swearing, Torture, Interrogation tactics, Emotional Manipulation, PTSD, Trauma

“...just to protect those who would never do the same for you?”

It had been two weeks since Aylin and BD had been trapped on the Star Destroyer, Cal and crew in the middle of negotiating with Saw Gerrera to organise a rescue mission, the stubborn man finally agreeing once it had been revealed BD had failed to return, the ship the duo had commandeered having been seized by the Empire. Cal, Cere and Greez huddled around the small monitor in the centre of the hull, deathly quiet as they listened to the conversation taking place between Second Sister and their former crewmate. On their rounds of the ship, BD had managed to return just in time to spot Trilla entering the prison cell, and now they waited anxiously, hidden under a series of shelves in the outward corridor. All three members of the crew looked positively sick, Cal in particular turning a ghastly pale as he held his breath, dreading the events to unfold.

“Oh isn't that just sweet.” Trilla’s shrill voice mocked lowly, eerily echoing down the corridor. “You really did care about them didn't you? Isn’t it a pity how they’ve left you here to die?”

“Fuck you.” Cal had to strain to hear Aylin’s response. She sounded weak, worryingly so, the venom in her words sounding as if it pained her to push it past her lips.

“You’re not denying it.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“That pretty red-head might have come to save you once, even I can tell you were very important to him-”

Cal involuntarily lurched at his mention, his muscles twitching so as to distance himself from the screen, an icy grip encasing his heart.

“Not anymore.”

Cal physically felt his heart whither in his chest, his knuckles turning white.

“Not anymore.” The sick woman almost sounded joyful. “All because you were born on the wrong side of the war. How ironic, an unforgiving Jedi.”

‘oh force...’ Cal withdrew, his heart plummeting to his stomach as the words echoed around his skull. Greez’s clawed hand landed on his elbow in comfort but the redhead payed him no mind. ‘please say something’ he silently begged, desperate to know that Aylin didn’t really think the same of him.

She never responded.

“I can’t watch this.” The red-head made an effort to move away from the screen, fully intent on hiding in the shadows of the cockpit. The entire conversation felt like a knife to his heart, and it only became worse when he realised anything could have been happening behind those closed doors, and he was powerless.

“And Cere, she wouldn’t even come to save me.” - A muffled ugly gasp - “Why are you protecting those who would sell you to the order for far less?”

Silence followed, and the trio held their breaths. A strangled cry abruptly cut-off, Cal very nearly almost throwing up as a strangled chocking gasp broke the silence, the sounds of boots scraping and struggling against a metallic surface drowning out the conversation.

A sickening thud.

Murmurs.

Screams.

Another bang.

“No- PLEASE!” Shrill blood-curdling screams assaulted their senses, Cal flinching away from the screen. The trio waited a moment, Cal’s hands covering his mouth, agape with horror - the begging screams didn’t stop.

“We have to do something!” Cal burst, a red hue overtaking his sickly complexion, flinching again at a particularly desperate yell.

“What do you suppose?” Cere bit back harshly, the stress and helplessness of the situation fraying all of their nerves.

“Something! - Anything!” Cal racked his brain for a solution, the echoing screams resonating from the monitor throwing his thoughts into a frenzy. “We need to get Trilla out of the room. We need to get her away from her!”

“And how are we-”

“BD!” Cal lurches towards the screen, shaking hands frantically typing a message to the small BD-unit. “If we can just get her into the main hull of the ship, it would be perfectly reasonable for the trooper who requested her presence to have moved to a different location in the ship.”

“Cal, think about this-”

His hand hovers over the ‘enter’ button on the holopad. His wide bloodshot eyes searing a hole directly into Cere’s skull.

“What is there to think about?” As if on queue, another scream wafted through the monitor. That solidified his resolve, hitting the key before Cere or Greez could even blink, BD immediately setting into motion.

The cell doors opened with a resounding hiss as BD finished inputting the code, the little droid rolling to the side to enter the cell. The sight that greeted the crew was worse than they could have possibly imagined. The young woman strapped to the table in the centre of the room resembled a corpse more so than the confident and head-strong blonde that had departed from their ship only two weeks prior. Her imperial jacket barely hung to her beaten and bloodied frame, the torn and tattered fabric had been roughly tugged from her torso, wound into a crumpled heap around her waist and elbows, bony shoulders jutting up through the ruins of a once white tank top, now stained crimson. With every breath her ribcage shuddered, ribs pressing against her beaten and sullied skin, protruding almost painfully with every twist and struggle, skin taught. Any part of her not covered in crimson was mottled in varying shades of black and purple, the angry discolouration winding around her ribs and disappearing behind the remnants of her undershirt.

Cal felt positively sick. Anger bloomed in his chest as despair gnawed at his stomach, bloodshot eyes transfixed on the image before him, the sound of blood rushing through his ears, and Aylin’s screams echoing through his mind drowning out the conversation taking place. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the table ledge with all the might his exhausted muscles would allow, his breath clogging his throat and chest as he forgets himself, his one and only concern the one person in the entire galaxy who he couldn't reach.

Trilla hovers over her diminished frame, elbow harshly dug into the blonde’s exposed ribs, gloved hand wrapped languidly around a blade buried to its hilt, fresh crimson pooling along Aylin’s collarbone, spilling onto the table and then onto the cement floor, glistening sickeningly in the overhead lighting. Noteful of BD’s presence, his frantic panicked beeps finally reaching her ears amongst the screams, Trilla leans back, still leant heavily on Aylin as her cold amber gaze lands on the small BB unit, anger and frustration etched across her face. A sickening thud echoes around the metallic room as the blonde’s head falls back pathetically, unaware of the cause of the interruption. She looked barely conscious, beginning to dance across the line of life to death, who’s arms were already open and willing to hold her in their cold embrace.

With all the languidity of a senator, Trilla leisurely pulls the blade from Aylin’s exposed shoulder, leisurely wiping the blood covered blade on her tattered jacket, a cruel smile adorning her features all the while. Aylin barely moves, eyes half lidded and body slack, the only indication of life the erratic yet shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Her head tilts to expose more of her hollowed features, Cal’s horrified gaze locking onto her own, the breath he had been holding escaping his lungs and his shoulders falling with the guilt that clawed its way up from his stomach, a tangible trepidation reverberating throughout the force. What little fat she had possessed had surely withered away, her cheekbones appearing almost sharp underneath her taught and sunken complexion, ivory skin now pale and shining a ghastly yellow under the blaring overhead lights, a stark contrast to the maroon-dried blood coating her temple and jaw. Her bloodshot and sunken eyes blearily gaze towards the ceiling, no sign of the life that had once illuminated their honeyed depths, the life that had spilled from her being in abundance no longer to be found.

Cal’s focus finally turns back to the conversation at hand, breaths shallow, BD beckoned from the room with an indignant “Droid.”, the tall figure of the second sister glowering at them from the entrance of the cell, evidently annoyed at the intrusion. With one final glance BD reluctantly turns to leave the room, following the second sister dutifully in their search for the non-existent trooper in the main hanger.

Cal collapses onto a sofa across the room from the monitor, the horrific image of Aylin strapped to a metal table, looking closer to death than life, and drenched in her own blood, permanently burnt into his retinas. A sight to haunt him for a lifetime.

“Fuck Saw, we’re getting them both, tomorrow.”

----------

With little convincing Greez had quickly succumbed to Cal’s persuasion, the two men - after much deliberation and heated debate - had also successfully convinced Cere of their plan. Truthfully, Cal had been conjuring ways to coordination a rescue ever since Aylin and BD had been captured on the Star Dreadnaught, and as he prepared for the events of the day, no doubt entered his mind that their two companions would be with the crew by the end of the day. Companion - Cal almost scoffed to himself - the two were far more than that: BD, in many ways, had become a best friend to Cal in the past few years, the companionable little droid with a taste for adventure never failing to offer a sense of comfort and joy, even in some of Cal’s darkest times, in many ways resembling a younger sibling Cal had never before had the pleasure of having. Aylin, on the other hand, in the time the pair had known one another, had somehow wormed her way into the isolated Jedi’s heart, always offering her support in his times of need, encouraging him with his training through her self-proclaimed ‘tough-love’, becoming a source of confident resolve and rationality - a sense of stability in the ever changing galaxy.

Cal remembered their many nights spent on some unknown planet, the pair sat beneath the many stars and moons of the galaxy, sharing tales long into the night. Cal had never had a relationship with anyone like the relationship he had formed with the stubborn blonde: heatedly sparring before patching one another’s wounds from the scuffle; longing glances spared with every tranquil moment, hidden behind excuses of exhaustion or a poorly constructed insult; grins and soft smiles shared over meal time or upon their own hidden adventures exploring new planets; a hand reaching out for the others in a busied market or times of comfort; an eye searching for the other in a crowded room; simply basking in one another's presence in the quiet hours of the morning, relishing every moment where they could just be. Cal knew he was a fool, a disgrace to the Jedi code he had spent his entire youth obeying like a holy script, he knew he was a fool the first time the enigmatic blonde had saved his life in her third month of joining the crew, standing over his tired and weary frame with a cocky smirk and a calloused hand outstretched, making some smart-arsed comment as she hauled him to his feet.

Attachments were forbidden, Jedi were trained from birth to let go of everything they were afraid to lose. And Cal? He was terrified to lose her - he had already broken his sacred vows, he had become attached, and he would be damned before he sacrificed one of the only things he was afraid to lose. He would never be a Jedi, yet perhaps that was okay, perhaps there was something more to this world that he had only realised upon stumbling across the Mantis and her crew.

He had never been that dutiful of a Padawan anyway.

The point seemed ever more poignant as his cerulean eyes stared conflictingly at the reflection in his mirror. No longer did he adorn the trusty combat trousers, baggy shirt, chest brace, not even his trusting poncho that seemed to make up his daily attire. Instead, a version of himself he had spent endless nights battling against stared back at him, the ironed and pressed midnight coloured uniform clinging to his lean frame. After a pit stop or two he had successfully acquired a knock-off Imperial General’s uniform, a notable fake with the lack of an aura emitting from the otherwise haunting apparel. Tugging harshly at the collar that bit into the skin of his neck, a habit he had seen Aylin recount numerous times in her preparation for the mission, his tired eyes trail over his figure, hoping to all of the stars and force wielders in the galaxy that his Master couldn’t see him now.

He clears his throat to relieve some of the tightness that had gathered in his chest before he leaves his sleeping quarters, rolling his stiff shoulders as he makes his way into the main hull, lightsaber already hidden beneath his newly acquired jacket.

“So,” The red-head steps before Greez and Cere - already equipped in her own better-fitting storm trooper armour - who had been typing away to BD on the small holopad in the main hull. “How do I look?”

The pair glance up at the young man, Greez’s beady little eyes widening considerably, a good natured grin enveloping his face.

“Kid-” Humour laced his tone, his dark eyes taking in the sight before him. “Let’s just hope you won’t be on that ship for too long.” In comparison to how Aylin’s uniform had fit her frame, Cal’s uniform may have well as swamped him, the thick fabric creasing at his waist, his belt fastened at the smallest capacity and yet somehow still too big, sitting notably lower on his waist than it should have, polished and barely scuffed boots a size too large, the one thing that actually fit being the pair of leather gloves over his shaking hands.

Everything just seemed slightly wrong, just a little bit askew, just a little bit... fake.

By all respects, Cal had certainly gone to the effort of impersonating an Imperial soldier, skin scrubbed clean of the dirt and grime of the galaxy, hair slicked back under a hat slightly too large for his head, he had even cracked into Aylin’s limited makeup supply and attempted to conceal the many scars he had gained through his years, as well as the stress-induced darkening bags under his eyes. The Empire wasn't him, and it was painfully obvious to all who spared him a second glance.

“Say all you want, old man.” Cal jibes light heatedly, beginning to head towards the cockpit. “Have you forgotten your own disguise?” The redhead sends a pointed look in the direction of the shell of a modified astromech droid, the humour in Greez’s eyes quickly dying as his gaze lands on his ingenious costume.

“If I have to come and rescue you all in that thing.” Greez stares uneasily at his heavy, small costume. “You owe me a spa day.”

----------

After commandeering a small transport shuttle from a neighbouring planet with a rather small Imperial presence, Cal and Cere bid farewell to Greez, who was to remain with the Mantis and communicate with them through BD and the data pad.

“Be careful.” Cere warns, arms wrapped around herself as she watches Greez fiddle with some mechanisms on the inside of the ship with dull eyes. “We won’t be able to come and rescue you if you get caught.”

He waves her concern off with dismissal.

Cal appears next to her, materialising from the bowls of the Mantis, smoothing his jacket out once again. The older woman turns to the young man, barely out of adolescence, and feels the corners of her mouth tug down. This could go wrong, this could go horribly, horrendously, atrociously wrong, and with Cal’s loosening grip on his emotions, his anxiety rolling from him in waves through the force, chances of failure were ever high. Cal was only young, having grown up during some of the darkest known times of the galaxy, his future destroyed by a war begun before his birth, and now he was to be thrust into the heart of the conflict, into the home of those responsible for all of his suffering. Cal was a victim, just like all those who had lived during the raising of the Empire, his body and mind more marred and scarred than most, but he was a survivor, scorning and mocking the Empire with every day lived. Cere hoped he continued to be a survivor, one of the few specks of light in an ever darkening galaxy, yet this rescue mission threatened to snuff his light out for good.

Her mind wondered at the cause of the young man’s anxiety as she watched his hands tremble as he straightened his leather belt, surveying the pasty sheen of his skin and the poorly-concealed bags under his flitting eyes. As harsh as she had been on Aylin when her past had been revealed, it was undeniable that the two women had held a close bond, and secretly, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself, Cere had missed the girl terribly, her own guilty conscious gnawing away at the edges of her conscious whenever she tried to rest. Last night had been particularly bad after the events that she had witnessed unfold on the small data pad yesterday afternoon, the image of her companion, beaten and bloody, a mere fragment of how she remembered the blonde girl on her departure. The image haunted her whenever her eyes had finally agreed to close - as obviously was the case with the redhead stood next to her, exhaustion palpable on his features underneath the mounting anxiety and adrenaline - the added guilt, knowing similar treatment would have faced Trilla due to her own selfishness, depriving her mind of rest, gnawing at her innards and haunting every fibre of her being.

She hoped desperately for her crew to return, all of them safe, once again, in their home, the Mantis.

“Cal,” She turns to the tall red-head, hands gripping her arms more firmly, “I know what your goal is, I know how badly you want to bring her home.” The red-head watches her with steady eyes, shoulders raising in defence. “I want them home too, but- but please remember yourself. I can’t loose all of you.”

The sounds of the local wildlife and fauna fill the steady silence as Cal mulled over her words, hand running over the saber tucked into his side.

“Don’t worry Cere,” Cal begins heading down the ramp, taking long purposeful strides towards the Imperial ship, Cere’s more tentative steps following in his wake. “I’m going to make it back, and I’m bringing everyone with me.”

Cal didn’t know where the certainty had come from, his voice didn’t waver and his steps didn’t falter. He would do this. He would bring his two best friends back home, and one day he would make the Empire pay.

----------

“We’re here.” Cere slips out of the pilot seat, allowing for Cal to take her place, grasping her blaster in a vice-like grip as she sits stiffly towards the back of the shuttle. She watches as Cal heads to the front of the ship, manning the controls for their landing, frown deepening behind her helmet as the star destroyer encroaches, fear clawing at her throat with every memory resurfaced from the devastation following Order 66.

“We head out the Western exit of the docking bay when we land.” Cal rattles off, flipping some switches as their small vessel is pulled towards the star destroyer. “BD should meet us somewhere in one of the closest corridors and we follow them to the cell, remember to stay behind me, if you don’t they’ll know something’s wrong straight away.”

Cere watches as Cal’s grip tightens around the steering controls, leather gloves straining taught over his knuckles, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his eyes stare unblinking towards the star destroyer.

“Are you ready?” Her voice is stern - shocking her with how it echoes back to her within the suffocating helmet - echoing around the small hull, yet Cal nearly doesn’t hear her, distracted with the storm brewing in his mind, consumed by a rising tidal wave of anxiety, determination and fear.

His eyes finally dart away from the destroyer, turning to glance at his companion over his shoulder, his blue irises red-rimmed and owlish in the overhead lights. The uncanny figure of a storm-trooper greats him, black visor reflecting his own distorted expression back to him from an impenetrable mask of white.

He nods lightly, determination sparking in his weary eyes, the collar of his jacket rubbing uncomfortably against his nape. There was no going back now, he couldn't go back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

----------

Cal squints as he exist the transport shuttle, the overbearing overhead lights bearing down on his frigid frame, the jelled hair peaking form underneath his hat shining with every tilt of his head. The first foot fall on the metal floor seems to resonate throughout the entire hanger, vibrations wracking the bones in his leg, tremors coursing throughout his body and echoing in his ears as several troopers’ heads turn towards the new arrival. His breath catches in his throat and the courage in his stomach withers as he takes another feigned purposeful stride away from the comfort and security of the shuttle, and in towards those waging a war on the galaxy. With every feigned purposeful step shockwaves scatter throughout his tense body, the tension in the air threatening to suffocate him, his heart hammering restlessly against his ribcage and lungs struggling for breath as if he had just ran through the last twelve parsecs. His cerulean eyes lock on his exit from the hanger, offering him a brief solace from the white masks that consumed every corner of his vision, Cere’s steady footsteps behind him offering a further sense of comfort.

By the time the pair finally exit the hanger Cal can practically feel the sweat that had broken out across his body, swiping his forehead to rid of any precipitation that had gathered. His shoulders and spine ached with the effort he had put into maintaining his posture - much in the way he had watched Aylin enter the hanger only several weeks prior - and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath. Although on the outside he may have appeared like ay other Imperial General, cold, unpleasant, perhaps even bored or apathetic to all events that seemed to have been happening around him, inside he had never felt so rattled, his mind a muddled mess, his blood coursing with fear and anxiety which only seemed to mount with every passing second. The panic within thinly veiled with calculated disgust.

Almost as soon as Cal and Cere enter an adjacent corridor to the main hanger, BD comes scuttling around the corner, the pair not recognising the droid in its new round body - Cere’s gloved fingers wrapping dangerously around the hilt of her blaster - until its excited little beeps reach their ears.

“Buddy!” Cal’s facade cracks, grinning down at the little droid as he fights the urge to reach down and give them a hug, worried incase someone should see. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

The little droid, on the other hand, is positively ecstatic, practically vibrating on the spot in both glee at being rescued and frustration that they couldn’t jump straight into Cal’s arms. Truth be told BD had deeply missed their old body during their time stranded on the Dreadnaught. Not waisting any time the little droid rolls behind Cal’s trouser clad legs, ramming into his calves in an attempt to nudge him in the direction of Aylin’s cell and whirring heatedly.

“I know, I know.” Cal steps forward, resolute stature returning to his pale features as he prepares to round another corner. “We’re all going home.”

----------

Within minutes that felt like an eternity the three rebels found themselves amongst the holding cells, BD finally taking the lead to guide them to Aylin’s cell, his happy chirps long silenced as the three grew nearer, all three dreading the sight to await them. Much like when they first arrived, Cal felt suffocated by the pristine atmosphere that seemed to cling to his clothes and hair, dirtying his skin and clogging his throat. It felt fake... the whites and slanted greys, the cleanliness and order, the peace and harmony. The presented image of purity and order, worked into the very steel framework itself, felt so wrong and dirty with the suffering taking place throughout the galaxy at the hands of those that inhabited the ship. Cal could feel the misery and terror that emanated from the dreadnaught itself, seeping into him through the walls and floors, mixed into a terrible concoction with the pride and honour from the officials that walked those very corridors.

It was beloathed, and yet prideful.

Uncomfortably, it reminded him of Aylin.

The red-head tugged at the collar of his jacket as BD came to an abrupt halt at a large durasteel cell door, his mind thrust back to the present. His breath catches in his throat as BD scuttles forward to open the cell door, gloved hand wrapping around the hidden saber at his hip, listening for any approaching footsteps down the corridor. Truthfully, he felt a nervous wreck, the beads of sweat forming along his brow and his greying pallor more so linked to his worry for Aylin than anything else. He could fight if they were caught, and chances are, with both himself and Cere combined, they could easily commandeer an escape shuttle, but he wasn’t certain if he could recover Aylin from the state he had seen her in on the small holopad. At the very moment he couldn’t be sure, and a part of him, a cowardly disdainful part of his conscience, feared opening the cell door to confirm his worry, feared being faced with the broken shell of a woman he couldn’t save. Another person he had failed, a person who had saved him more times than he could count.

Perhaps it was love - his worry at knowing the truth, his fear of seeing the situation first-hand. Cal was ashamed to think such a way.

The cell door hisses open, cool air caressing his feverish skin as he steps through the threshold, the overpowering scent of antiseptic hitting him full force, yet the familiar metallic stench of blood followed. His breath remains in his chest as he takes in the sight before him. Bright eyes widening as they flit about the empty room, landing uneasily on Aylin’s still figure. Cal holds his breath, silently begging her to move, for her head to tilt in his direction, for her closed eyes to open, begging her to do anything at all.

“Aylin?” The word echoes around the room, Cal’s voice shaky and cracking around the word, his mouth parched like the deserts of Tatooine. Somehow his palms become even more clammy, and he tosses his gloves to the side without a second thought, small crescents visible in the palms of his hands from how he had clenched them on their short journey. He takes a small step closer.

She doesn’t move.

Cere watches him carefully from behind her helmet as he calls Aylin’s name again and steps further into the room, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. BD, clearly unsure of what to do, hovers around Cere’s ankles, little camera flickering between Cal and Aylin, a barely audible humming even sting from the little droid. She turns to the closed cell door, blaster gripped tightly to her chest, wary of an intrusion.

Things had barely changed from the last time Cal had seen the room through BD’s holopad projection and he was thankful to note that it didn’t look as if Aylin had sustained any more injuries from the day prior, however, that was hard to determine with the crimson that coated her body, undoubtedly hiding wounds from view. Cal stops next to the metal table, peering down at her sullen features, her sunken maroon-bagged eyes closed to the world, chapped lips barely parted. The holopad had failed to pick up many of the finer details, and Cal was horrified to see the blossoms of purple and magenta that littered her face and neck, a particularly worrisome lashing of purple winding around her throat - Cal noting with disgust it’s resemblance to a handprint. Her blonde hair appeared dull and lifeless, slicked back from her face and coated in sweat and blood, a small lesion at her temple and brow trickling into her hairline, pooling in the rivets of her angular features. Blood - darker, older - had been smeared across her cheeks and jaw, cracking along the lines of her face and flaking from her skin, leaving it stained red underneath.

“What did they do to you?” Cal questions softly, not expecting an answer. Gingerly he places his hand on her shoulder, careful to avoid any hidden wounds.

His heart almost lurches from his chest when she flinches from his touch.

“Aylin!” He almost cheers, glee coating his voice as he leans closer, a smile cracking his features. Slowly, weakly, her eyes flutter open, familiar hazel eyes squinting up at him through all the blood and gore. She looked exhausted, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, her left eye only partially open. “Aylin, oh my force, it’s me. It’s Cal.” Lost in his own elation Cal fails to spot the weariness to her features, nor the way her gaze turns to the ceiling, vacant and unseeing. He reaches for the cuff around her wrist, but her hand jerks away from his touch. He pauses, forehead creasing. “Aylin, come on, its me, and Cere, we’re getting you home.”

Her eyes flicker to his for the briefest of moments, brightened under the harsh lighting. “Trilla,” Her voice is hoarse and weak, a husky whisper of what it once was, lined with guilt and exhaustion. She tilts her head away from the red-heads confused gaze, something awful gnawing at her stomach. “leave me alone.”

Silence consumes the room, Cal’s gaze landing on Cere who simply shrugs her shoulders in response. He reaches for her again, swiping a strand of hair from her face, hand retreating just as quickly when her eyes snap open in alarm.

“Aylin, its me, come on-”

“You’re not here.” She was trying to convince herself, not daring to allow her hopes to rise. She was in pain, she was beyond exhausted, and she was dangerously close to giving up, hoping for death as some sort of escape. “You’re not real.” She glances down to his hand that rests against her exposed forearm, mind barely registering the warm pads of his fingers pressing against her pulse. “Trilla, we’ve done this before. You’re a cruel woman.”

She glances away as pity overtakes his features, staring blankly at the ceiling, body slack against the tabletop. ‘We’ve done this before.’ Had Trilla done this before? How many times had versions of himself and the crew attempted to rescue her? How guarded had she had to be, not even trusting her own dreams for fear of revealing what she had tried to keep from those who sought to harm them. He was furious - the anger that had lapped up his throat all week rising like a tidal wave - and he would make them pay, but first he had to get everyone back.

“No, no, it’s us, it’s me. I promise it’s me.” He tries, attempting to scrub the makeup from his face, scars glossy under the harsh white light. He catches BD out of the corner of his eye. “Look!- We’ve got BD, we’re all going home.”

Finally she picks her head up, wincing at the effort. Her wide eyes land on the little droid across the room, mouth agape as the air leaves her lungs and her shoulder slump. Terror and disappointment gnaw away at her conscience, the familiar feeling of helplessness returning full force. “They found BD.” She mutters to herself, defeats palpable in her voice as she allows her head to fall back against the table, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

Cal, in a stressed panic, and unsure of what to do, reaches out through the force, attempting to project his memories, something no one else could possess. But, as he pressed forward a force stops him in his tracks, Aylin’s body tensing at a presence surrounding her mind. “I can show you, just let me- let me in.”

“No! No, no, no-” Cal had never seen so much fear in her eyes, and he withdraws, hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I won’t.” He quickly retreats as her panic rises, cuffs clanking against the table as she feebly squirms, force signature returning to his own aura, yet outstretched and welcoming, more than willing for Aylin to make the first move. He wracks his tired and frantic brain for a solution, her panic feeding into his own, not expecting her to have such doubts. They needed to be quick, he knew, but there was no way they could coax her out of the room in the state she was in. “I know you. I know things about you the Empire- that Trilla would never know. Do you remember that time on Hoth when I ripped a glove and almost caught frostbite, I’ve only still got ten fingers because you managed to skin that little creature. What about that time I accidentally singed some of your hair off with my saber when I tried to use it as a torch, I had to pay for you’re haircut afterwards and you got the most expensive treatment just to prove a point. I know you have two sugars in your tea but only every other day; I know you always insist on playing with your knives no matter how many times I ask you to stop; I know that you’re favourite game to play is blackjack because you can count cards and know how to cheat, like that time you scammed me for half a brownie.” He was getting emotional now, the stress and turmoil of the past few days causing unshed tears to gather, his knuckles turning white as he wrings his hands together. “I promise you it’s me.”

They’re in you head. Her conscience echoes, the blonde fighting back tears at her own failure. They know, they know everything. Trilla’s playing, she’s already got what she wants.

“You can’t be here.” He voice cracks and wavers, throat scratchy from misuse, her mounting emotions not helping. She wished he was here, with every fibre of her being she wished Cal actually stood before her, frown on his face and eyebrows knitted together in concern. It couldn’t be true. If he was truly here she might’ve cried, and if this was all another elaborate hallucination created by Trilla then she’d probably cry even harder. She so desperately wanted to go home.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to believe me, you don’t have to do anything.” Cal reaches again for the cuffs binding her hands to the table, one hand reaching for the saber at his hip. “But please let me help you.”

She doesn’t say anything as his hand wraps around her thin wrist, saber igniting and casting blue light across the room. Within seconds both cuffs are cut from her wrist, falling against the table with a thud. She rubs her wrists gingerly, wincing at the cuts she has sustained during her stay. Grasping her forearm in a delicate grip, other hand sliding behind her shoulder blade, Cal eases her up, wincing at every gasp that leaves her lips. A jaw in his muscle ticks with every sound from her mouth, pity and fury blooming in his chest.

“Agh-” She grimaces at the pain enveloping her side, ribs protesting against the movement, healing wounds reopening with every twist of her muscle.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Cal urges her on, arm sliding underneath her legs and behind her back, drawing her to his chest as he rises to his full height. Aylin’s head lolls against his shoulder, scared to hope any of this was real but revelling in the familiar warm comfort seeping from the redheads chest.

With a nod shared between `Cal and Cere they depart, deadly silent as they leave the cell, not a trace of their presence left behind. Cal glances down at the woman in his arms, beyond grateful to have her back within arms reach, satisfied with the knowledge no one would be able to harm her now. He had her and he wasn’t letting go.

Cere freezes in front of him, BD rolling into the back of her legs, and Cal’s heart stops in his chest. She urges him back, but as they’re retreating two troops round the corner, halting in surprise. Both troops helmets slowly turn towards the blonde nestled in Cal’s arms, and their blasters raise, shouting commands. Cal ducks as Cere fires, shielding Aylin as well as he could, BD taking refuge behind Cere’s legs.

Within moments the corridor plunges into silence again, two dead troops lain before the four rebels. Cere glances back to Cal, charging her blaster.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down.” And she runs, sprinting in the direction of the escape shuttles - just to the left of the hanger - with BD trailing behind, Cal sprinting to keep up. Rounding another corner he almost crashes into Cere who doubles back, the pair just managing to dodge out of the way of oncoming blaster fire as they disappear around another corner, the slap of their boots against the metal floor drowned out by the shouts of troops on their tail.

“We’re not far.’ Cere calls, throwing her helmet to the side as she gaps for breath, Cal only a few paces behind her. The pair, plus BD, emerge in a small hanger, smaller, more compact escape shuttles lined on either wall, a squad of five stormtroopers ready and waiting.

Cal’s eyes widen as he watches all five troops raise their weapons, heart plummeting to his stomach. There was nothing he could do, he just hoped they granted them death instead of subjecting them to the fate Aylin had been forced to endure. Cere reaches back deftly and grasps his saber from his belt, igniting the blade mere moments before the first blaster fires. She works in a blur, deflecting shot after shot, blue light cast across her features as she steps closer to the enemy, Cal and BD close behind. It wasn’t often the redhead was able to see Cere in combat, usually taking missions with the girl in his arms, and the skill she displayed, surely a product of the wisdom she had amassed over her years, was awe-inspiring. Every movement is precise, each twist and flick of her wrist purposeful, the weight of the saber in her hand appearing little more than a feather with the ease she displays. She deflects and a troop falls, killed by their own shot.

Slowly but surely the trio make their way towards the closest shuttle, Cal and BD baking away into the ship whilst Cere remains on the defensive, deflecting shot after shot, a bead of sweat running from her brow. Cal places Aylin down on a small cot in the corner of the cramped shuttle, instructing BD to stay behind whilst he collects Cere, running to the boarding ramp, the sounds of blaster shots once again reaching his ears.

“Cere!” He shouts, hanging out of the shuttles door, unable to do much without a weapon. “Cere!”

The older woman retreats slowly, continuing to deflect as she backs up the ramp, the red-head scuttling to the front of the shuttle and switching the engines on, awaiting the sound of the door hissing shut before doing anything drastic.

“Go!” Cere calls and he immediately sets into action, flicking a switch to his right and grasping the steering in both hands, sighing in relief as the shuttle lifts from the floor, paying no mind to the blaster shots that ricocheted off the steelwork around him. Cere appears, clambering into the co-pilots seat, saber grasped tightly in her hand as the ship lurches forward, charging full speed out of the small hanger, Cal frantically inputting the necessary codes for hyperspace, hands flitting about the dashboard in a blur.

With one final lurch the shuttle departs, the red head sighing and collapsing back into the pilots seat, chest rising and falling as he revels in the safety of hyperspace, stars dancing across his vision and illuminating his weary features, the stresses of the day lifting from his shoulders as he watches galaxies stream past. But the day was far from over, and in moments he’s clambering out of his seat, mind once again consumed by the blonde that hadn’t left his thoughts for an eternity.

Leaving Cere in control of their heading Cal retreats into the cramped hull, making a beeline for the blonde huddled atop a thin casket, BD dutifully waiting by her side, camera trained on her intensely, and rolling anxiously from side to side. Cere stares after him, wanting to offer her services, but ultimately deciding to remain in the cockpit, radioing Greez back on the Mantis, knowing that the redhead needed some time with Aylin, alone.

“I’m back.” Cal announces, sitting on the edge of the small cot, dropping a small medkit onto his lap the he had found in a compartment. His eyes land on the blonde’s pale face, eyes softening at the worry etched across her features, eyebrows knitted together in both pain and concern. He opens his mouth to speak, protruding a set of stims from the cluttered medkit. “I’m going to patch you up and then we’re going home. You’re safe, Trilla can’t get to you anymore.”

Aylin hums, head tilting to the side as she finally makes eye contact with the red head, looking as if she was only truly seeing him for the first time. Her eyes widen and her chapped lips part, a shaking hand reaching out to rest against his own, testing her own reality. Cal smiles softly as she watches him with curious eyes, shallow breaths parting her lips.

“Cal?”

“Yes,” his voice breaks as she finally looks at him, truly looks at him, hazel eyes brightening with every second, fighting back against heavy lids. “yes it’s Cal. We’re going home.”

A small smile fights its way onto her lips, although the joyous moment is broken abruptly, the smile quickly twisting into a grimace as her body finally begins to acknowledge the trauma it had endured, old and new wounds reopened in the frenzy to escape. Her eyes flicker, hand beginning to feel slack against his own. Cal pales, hurriedly uncapping the stim in his grasp.

“You stay awake, you hear?” He jabs the stim into her bicep, preparing the other one in his grasp. He had her, he couldn’t lose her now.

“It hurts.” Her voice is strained, a pathetic replica of her true nature.

“I know, I know it does. I’m going to make it stop, I just need you to stay here, stay with me.” Her eyes flutter again, and Cal is grasping at straws, digging through the medkit for something, anything that could work. The stims hadn't worked as he hoped and now he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Hey- hey! You keep those eyes open. Don’t you dare-” Fear grips him like a vice. His blood running cold as he leans closer, both hands grasping her shoulders, uncaring for the blood that caked them. He felt helpless, utterly, hopelessly helpless. It had been bad when he had been forced to endure being trapped behind a screen, but oh, this was so much worse. She was right here, he could touch her, talk to her, feel her weak heart beating underneath his very own fingertips, and yet he couldn't do anything. “Look at me. Look. At. Me. I want to see your eyes. Come on.”

Try as she might, her body was beginning to fail and with every passing moment the darkness that had clouded her peripheral for the past few days encroached, the lights in the hull dimming and dimming, until all she could see was Cal’s hazy face staring down at her, his hands clasping either side of her face. “Please.” She couldn’t, her walls finally falling and mind succumbing to the rest it so desperately needed.

“Cere-!”

He sounded desperate. He sounded scared. And for the briefest of moments, Aylin felt guilty.

And then the darkness consumed her.

----------

Cal drifts in and out of sleep, dozing comfortably with his head propped atop a familiar cot in a familiar ship, hand delicately grasping another's with his legs curled under the old chair he had stolen, the hazy figure of Aylin comforting him in his peripheral. It had been a few hours since himself, Cere and BD had returned to the Mantis, patching up Aylin to the best of their ability before tucking her away in her room, on course to the rebel base in order to take up Saw’s offer of medical assistance once word had reached him of their rescue mission. Although Cal had arrived back to the Mantis full of energy, spurred on by his panic and worry for the girl who had practically collapsed in his arms, the hours and hours of stress had worn him down, the young red-head finally agreeing to catch some rest, but refusing to allow Aylin to leave his sight.

In his half-conscious state, he fails to notice the way the blonde’s lips twitch and eyelids flutter, barely registering the way her fingers flex against his own as the darkness finally releases her, mind and body returning. Aylin stirs quietly, every muscle and joint aching, the soft fabric against her skin a welcome change from the metal table she had called home for force-knows how long. With every passing second her mind returns, cogs turning as the days events come back to her full force, the sight of Cal’s worried gaze seared into the back of her eyelids, her lips parting in a gasp and her body lurching up out of slumber. Her eyes snap open, crazed and panicked as they dart around the dimly lit room, a groan parting her lips as her ribs protest, the gaping wound at her side, now haphazardly wound in fresh bandages, protesting heavily agains the sudden movement.

Cal is startled awake, almost falling from his chair at Aylin’s abrupt movement hazy eyes fighting for clarity amongst his foggy thoughts. “Hey,” He mutters groggily, mind desperately fighting against the sleep that had consumed him only moment before, hands reaching out to grab Aylin’s shoulders. “hey, hey, hey. It’s me, Aylin it’s me.” Finally, the frantic woman’s eyes meet his own, her body relaxing into his touch as he gently guides her back down, the pads of his fingers digging into the exposed flesh of her shoulders. “It’s alright, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” She takes in a shuddering breath as Cal gently sweeps her messy bangs from her eyes, palm resting against her forehead a moment too long, simply savouring that she was here, she was back, she was safe.

Cal sits back in his chair once he makes sure she was okay and settled, fretting like a mother and readjusting her pillows and pulling the thin sheets back up to her chest, fingers smoothing out the white tank top she had been changed into. His cerulean eyes, still slightly blurry with sleep, never leave her figure.

“What happened?” Her voice was quiet, a mere murmer whisked away on the wind. She runs a hand along the bandages freshly wrapped around her shoulder, noting the wraps of gauze around each of her wrists.

“We got you. Cere and I, we went and got you. You were pretty beat up.” His voice cracks and he quickly clears his throat. Aylin pays it no mind, wide owlish eyes staring at him from underneath a pair of heavy lids. “We’ve fixed you up the best we could, Saw’s offered some rebel facilities if we need them.” The small room plunges into silence, neither of them glancing away, Cal’s thumb unknowingly rubbing circles into the back of Aylin’s hand. As an after thought he adds. “We’re at the other end of the galaxy, there’s no way they can find us here. You’re safe, you can get some rest.”

As if she had suddenly remembered, Aylin reveals her force signature, the walls that she had held around her mind - and that she had habitually rebuilt when she awakened - coming crumbling down. Cal watches her shoulders visibly relax as the final remnants of tension leave her body, allowing his own force signature to branch out, enticed yet apprehensive of the new presence.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She mutters, eyes falling from his gaze.

“I get it.” He smiles softly, thumb continuing to run soothing circles on the back of her hand. As much as he may have been hurt that she hadn’t told him, he couldn’t deny that he understood why, the events of the last two weeks evidence enough of the consequences. “We can talk about it later, you need some rest.”

Silence envelopes the room, the pair simply content with one another's presence. Cal rests his head on the palm of his hand, eyes beginning to close once again, happy that they had a second chance. Undoubtedly the pair had much to talk about, the crew had to figure out how to move forward, but at least they had that chance. For a long time Cal had feared he would never get that chance and now that he had it, he was not going to let it go to waste.

Things weren’t perfect, not by any stretch of the word, but the universe had given them the opportunity to try and make things right.

Suddenly, Aylin stirs again, wincing as she attempts to sit up, eyes wide and unblinking as they flit about the room. Cal’s hands shoot out again to stop her. “Where’s BD?” The urgency to her voice was hard to miss, resembling its older self. “Is he alright? Did you find him? I saw-”

“It’s okay, we’re all back. BD’ll be over the moon to know you’re awake, they’ve been peaking into your room every chance they get.” Cal coaxes her back down, more concerned with her reopening any of the wounds the crew had spent a painstaking amount of time trying to patch up than anything else. “And we managed to extract the information you both collected. It’s really going to make a difference.” He pauses, unsure of his next words, wondering how inappropriate they might be, unsure of how the blonde felt about him after her departure. “Thank you.”

Aylin smiles fondly at his worry, allowing him to secure her back in place, delighted that her earlier assumptions hadn’t been true, that Trilla wasn’t just playing some sick mind game, that BD was safe and sound, on the Mantis where they belonged. Then, the words fully register, and her forehead creases in confusion. “For what?”

Cal leans back in his chair, hands running through his disheveled hair, the bags under his eyes more visible with the guilt festering in his chest. “You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve let anyone go and collect the data, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have been in the same danger as you.” His bright eyes drift to the bandages wrapped around her shoulder, flitting across the many bruises visible just from her neck up. “But you did and I- thank you. Thank you for doing this and I know-” He was rambling now, his hands running through his hair as Aylin watches him, a small smile tugging at her chapped lips. “I know I acted like a bit of an ass before you left- and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hesitates again, reaching forward to intertwine their hands, seeking comfort in knowing she was here, that he hadn’t failed her as he had done his master all those years ago. “I heard some of the things Trilla said to you, and I’m sorry you ever thought I wouldn’t come to get you. It was all I could think about since they caught you. Truthfully I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t gotten you back.”

The room plunges into silence once again, uncomfortable and stifling, Cal feeling overwhelmed at the emotions that echoed around him through the force, not daring to reach out to the blonde before him, fearful of what he might discover, fearful of heartbreak. Aylin gazes at the red head from under heavy lashes, weary eyes begging to close. The poor boy looked as exhausted as she felt, deep dark bags under his eyes, skin as pale as snow causing his scars to look red and glossy, highlighting the greyness to his pallor, his hair a dishevelled mess atop his head, tufts sticking out in every direction from the endless amount of times he had ran his fingers through his hair, tugging harshly at the roots in frustration. He had changed since she last saw him, donning a pair of cargo trousers and a comfortable sweater she had suggested he buy form a marker stall once, the navy material bunched up to his elbows, creased and crinkled from the stresses of the day. As tired as he looked and as rough as she felt, she doubted she had ever before been so ecstatic to see him, to see that he cared, even despite the truth of her history. Warmth spread from everywhere he touched, his soft touches and gentle caresses a stark contrast to anything she had felt before; it was everything she had hoped it could be.

“I remember seeing you in that uniform.” Aylin whispers, daring to break the silence, exhausted yet hopeful eyes boring into Cal’s own. “I’m surprised they didn’t realise you weren't one of them sooner.”

He was taken aback at the abrupt shift in conversation, cerulean eyes boring into Aylin’s own hazel pair with curiosity, his mind reeling at the exhaustingly dazzling smile she sent his way.

“And why’s that?” He questions softly, thumb unknowingly continuing to rub gentle circles on the back of her hand.

“Your eyes.” Cal’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, beginning to wonder if she had been able to understand his words in her drugged state. “They’re too kind.”

A moments pause. Cal could feel the familiar bloom of heat along his cheeks spreading to his ears, he dreaded to think how flushed he must look.

“They didn’t match the uniform at all.”

“You’re obviously delirious,” he deflects jokingly, voice just as soft, warmth spreading through his cheeks and neck. “the uniform didn’t even fit-”

“The eyes are the window to the soul.” She mutters defiantly, determined even despite her dazed and exhausted state. “I’ve seen the eyes of some of the cruelest men and women in the galaxy. You’re too good for them Cal, you’re too good for us, you’re too good for me. I don’t know why you came to save me, but I can’t thank you enough. I never thought I would get to see your eyes again.”

Because I love you. He wanted to say, yet his mind wouldn’t let him, forcing partial truth from his lips.

“I was worried I’d never get to see you again.” Cal admits, leaning forward in his chair. “You have no idea how worried I was. You’ll be the death of me one day.”

His eyes study her face; the softness of her cheeks, the angularity of her jaw, the curve of her lips. His eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips and then back again, watching a small smile carve its way across her small lips. He felt like a boy again, unsure and uncertain, inexperienced and insecure. He had felt like this many times around the blonde, but this time, he wouldn’t shy away. She was a shining star in an ever darkening galaxy, and he’d be dead before he let her fall from his grasp again. Mustering all the courage in the galaxy, his lips part. “I was worried I’d never get to do this.”

Some part of him, the part that remembered his time with the Jedi before the end to it all, the end of an era, stirred fear in his heart; fear of attachments, fear of loss, fear of love. A life of solitude and harmony he had practiced like a mantra, and that in every step of the way, when it came to the blonde in front of him, he had failed, time and time again. He remembers how he had felt when she had been captured, the way his heart had seized and his world had stopped, how his life since than had been nothing but worry and hurt, nothing but pain for what could have been and what might never be, the pain of loving someone and not being able to do anything about it, not being able to protect those he cares for more than anything else in the galaxy.

He had never been that dutiful of a Padawan anyway.

He leans closer, impossibly so, watching the grin grow on Aylin’s face as her eyes flutter shut. His lips connect with her own, melding together in an innocent affair, a hand coming up to cradle the side of her jaw, the other tightening its grip on her hand. He presses forward, heart hammering out of his chest and blood rushing through his ears as she kisses back, her free hand coming up to tentatively grasp the back of his neck, drawing him down to her; the girl he had been so close to losing, the boy she had been so close to forgetting. It was brief and uncertain, testing new waters both had been too scared to explore, but every emotion they had kept bottled for so long came bubbling to the surface; the hurt, the pain, the helplessness, the love. In moments that felt like an eternity Cal pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, wide uncertain eyes locked with her own with haggard breaths falling from his lips.

“Took you long enough.” She grins from underneath the sheets, her own heart ready to explode from her chest.

“Get some rest.” He mutters behind a laugh, pulling back to sit back in his chair, arms crossing to prop his head on the corner of the bed, one hand outstretched to hold her own in his strong grip. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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nostalgiabones · 4 years ago

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This is just something inspired by Calum’s Instagram story — I thought him playing piano had Sunday afternoon vibes but then I realised it was Monday and somehow this happened so... enjoy!

Monday’s suck.

Or at least that’s what you’ve been told by everyone your whole life — seeming to be an unwritten rule in society that the first day of the week, after the weekend, is a drag for everyone. And for a long while, it felt that way for you too — Monday would roll around and you’d wake up wanting to spend a little longer getting more sleep.

Yet somehow, that had changed as soon as Calum entered your life.

Every week felt a little easier; each day got more enjoyable with every moment you spent getting to know him. They got even better once you started staying at his house. His bed felt like a safe haven, and you wonder how you ever slept before it was next to him.

“How did you get in here?” You murmur to the small dog curled up on the edge of the bed, fur tickling your legs. The sheets are warm on your skin as you wake up slowly, realising you’re alone in the room — except from Duke. Calum’s side of the bed is deserted, the pillow crinkled from when he had laid there some hours ago. Waking up alone felt a little easier, even just knowing that he was in the next room. “Where’s your pops?”

The first time you heard Calum refer to himself as ‘pops’ to the grumpy dog your heart had melted, as it seemed to with every thing you learned about him. Duke sits up from the bed as you climb out of it, rubbing your eyes and adjusting to the sunlight flooding the room, wondering where Calum has got to. You note how he’s left a hoodie draped over the chair in the corner of the room, and wonders whether it was intentional — even if it wasn’t, you take it and slip the material over your head. There’s something comforting about the warmth his clothes brings, laced with his cologne. It’s then that the faint sound of piano keys fills your ears, and you know where to find him.

Stepping out of the bedroom, the wooden floor is cold beneath your feet as you head down the hall, towards the middle of the house. The sound of the piano gets louder yet you can’t quite make out the song — he keeps stopping and starting. Somehow he can pick up songs quicker than you change clothes; his ears in tune with any song he wants to learn. Duke follows behind you, the pitter patter of his little paws accompanying you.

“Hey,” You call out quietly, standing in the doorway to the room where you find your boyfriend, sitting at the piano. He stops for a moment and turns to face you, his gaze softening when he spots his hoodie — definitely intentional, you think.

He gestures for you to go over and you do, standing behind him for a moment and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You rest your cheek on his head, curls blocked by one of the many bucket hats tucked away in his wardrobe. You run your fingers through the dark curls at the back of his neck, feeling the goosebumps that break out over the skin as you stand there. He continues playing, fingertips gently gracing the keys, and you still don’t recognise the song but it sounds pretty — a soft, slow, perfect way to start a Monday.

“Good morning, love,” He replies, finally deciding to break the silence as he turns to kiss your hand. He stops playing once more and his fingertips land on your thigh, looking up at you from his spot on the bench. “C‘mere, I want to play for you.”

You move around the bench to sit down next to him, your head landing on his shoulder, his head turning to brush his lips against your hairline. His lips linger there for a moment, just savouring the minute, whilst he has you there. You lift your head to kiss his cheek before settling again, letting him play, basking in the serene feeling of the morning. The sun streams through the window and things couldn’t be more perfect, feeling Duke curl up beneath the piano. It feels as though in that moment, everything is where it should be — and there’s no where else you’d rather be.

“S’ pretty, what are you playing?” You ask when he’s done, your fingers lacing with his when he pulls away from the keys. His grasp is warm and gentle, grounding you and reminding you that you’re both there together.

He shrugs subtly, squeezing your hand in his, his thumb brushing your forehand. “It was just stuck in my head, I woke up thinking about it. Hence why I had to leave you in bed, I hope you don’t mind.”

You chuckle and shake your head, assuring him that waking up alone is perfectly fine. “Of course I don’t mind, Cal. Especially when I wake up to this, you somehow Monday’s much more bearable.”

Having him around makes everything feel less like a mountain to climb, and more like an adventure to face head on — anything seems possible when he’s there to support you. As you sit and bask in the feeling of him, listening to him play away at the keys in front of him and the sun on your back... suddenly, you wish everyday could feel like Monday.

***

Askbox — let me know what you think!🥰

Masterlist

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wastelandcth · 4 years ago

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Coney Island - cth

summary: Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

author’s notes: this was...wow. i hope you all enjoy shoutout to @in-superbloom and @hoodhoran for letting me give them sneak peeks to hype myself up over it!

warnings: mentions of a car accident, mentions of a hospital, angst, sorry there’s a cliffhanger.

masterlist || request || more songs for calum

You’d always been told that finding your passion at a young age was a blessing. That finding the one thing you wanted to do for the rest of your life and running with it was a blessing in disguise. You’d never understood why everyone would say that to you, you loved making art and there had never been a downside to creating art. There had never been a point in your life where your job had become a stressor and where you’d regretted ever wanting to chase the thrill of canvas and paint. Every day you’d wake up and have the time and space to create scenery you’d seen in dreams or in real life, little pockets in time you could freeze on canvas for the world to see. It’d been a rough start, selling your work for whatever amount you were offered until you had your break and found yourself in a museum overseas staring at the large painting hanging on the wall of some museum you’d dreamed about. You’d been standing there in the empty halls, breathing in the quiet of the hall, the occasional footsteps bringing you back into the moments before a shadow next to you brought your attention away from your splatter of colors and lines to the person who stood next to you. And that’s how you first met Calum, in the silence of an art museum where his eyes studied your work as if he’d been trying to find all the secrets you’d hidden in the paint. It was where you’d told him about the painting, where you’d both found one another in more ways than one.

That’s when you finally understood the blessing in disguise.

Coney Island had always been a warm and distant memory to you, the boardwalk lined with thrills on either side, waiting to be explored. You remembered cotton candy dreams and spending days in the sun with your friends. Coney Island has been love and laughter, sunshine and summer days, and a place where the pit in your stomach was gone. It had been all you could think about when summer was mentioned, an inspiration to the painting you’d whispered to Calum about. The colorful swirls of paint and oils that gave you your first real break in the art world had all come from the place where boardwalks and rides had brought you nothing but happiness.

But now, the boardwalk was silent and you felt like a ghost walking through it.

The ocean was inviting, a teasing view from wherever you stood, tempting you to step into the sand and sink into its secrets. The boardwalk echoed with every step you took, bouncing the noise up into the sky where it returned as a sharp crack of thunder. The empty bench you’d found was hard and cold, leaving your bones aching with a chill you weren’t sure would ever go away. The wind thumping against your ears as you took in the cold ocean air into your lungs, letting the salty breeze burn them and leave you gasping for air. Your eyes searched the water, a muted gray and blue that seemed to stretch on for as far as your eyes could see, swirling with white foam from the waves that crashed onto the sand every so often.

The lights from the amusement park flickered against the shore, strobing in and out of view which left you shaking and with teary eyes. The waves filled your head with the screeching of tires and breaking glass. The swirling of the ocean putting the same fear in the pit of your stomach as when you’d heard Calum’s scream. The scream that had been cut off as the call went dead.

“I know I promised I’d be able to make it to dinner…” you mumbled hesitantly, frowning as you heard Calum’s sigh, “But I-”

“Let me guess, you have a very important gallery show and it just happened to slip your mind again so you’ll have to skip dinner with the band?” Calum mumbled, the annoyance in his voice obvious, “Yeah, I’ve heard it before. It’s fine, you’ll still make it to the show, right?”

“Well…” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair as the busy streets of Brooklyn surrounded you, “I’m really sorry, Cal.”

“Are you serious?” he scoffed, “We’ve had this planned for weeks now! You can’t just-”

“Calum? Calum?! Honey?”

The hospital had become a maze, turns, and twists that only led your farther and farther from your destination. With every squeak of your shoes against the vinyl floor, you felt yourself drifting farther away from him, from the man who’d you’d been putting second to your job and the one you didn’t know you’d be able to see again. Your adrenaline had been on high since the moment the emergency worker had answered the tenth call you’d made to Calum’s phone, telling you the what, when, and where had happened to Calum. You’d raced through the busy sidewalks, trying to find the hospital where Calum’s unconscious self was being sent to. But even as you walked through the barren halls, hands shaking and dried tears on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it all. What if he never woke up and the last words you’d shared between one another was a fight? What if he never knew that you loved him more than anything in the world? What if all the nights away from him could’ve been switched for time spent together?

“Darling?” one of the nurses said softly, breaking you out of the hurricane of thoughts, “Hey, take deep breaths, how can I help you? Are you hurt?”

“Where’s….they said he’d be here but I don’t..”

“Who are you looking for, honey?”

“Where did my baby go?”

You’d been ready to answer, to tell them that you needed to see Calum and hold his hand. To make sure he was okay and that he’d be able to make it to his show that night, to be happy on stage. But that was all thrown out the door when the doors opened, bringing a gust of cold and rainy wind into the room as well as the man you’d talked to on the phone only minutes before. Your breath caught in your throat, your body going stiff as you watched them wheel him into the building and then away from you. He was bloody and bruised, his eyes shut in a way that seemed too peaceful for the situation he was in. His hair was flat against his head, the usual curls that had roamed freely on his head now matted with blood, and you couldn’t help but rush out of the building. The walls had started to close in, trapping you in as you watched Calum disappear behind a crowd of nurses and doctors, and you finally took a breath of air as the door shut behind you and the hospital was behind you.

The waves were louder now, crashing against the shore with a force so strong they shook the boardwalk beneath your feet. You hadn’t realized how far you’d walked, not until the familiar lights of the boardwalk shone beneath the fog that had come with the rain, how far you’d walked away from him again. It wasn’t like he’d want you there anyways, the annoyance in his voice had been a clue if you’d ever seen one. You had just pushed him aside again in order to go to another gallery you knew deep down you could afford to miss. It had been like that for weeks now, you both danced around the fact that you hadn’t been in the same city for months on end. Daily phone calls or text messages were replaced with a silence neither of you enjoyed and airplane trips became lonely. You’d been off traveling the globe as your newest works were displayed all across and Calum had been off promoting the band’s latest album. It hadn’t been the first time both of your jobs had overlapped schedules and being away from one another for this long had happened, but the silence was new.

Which is why the fact that you were both finally in the same city was so important for Calum, and for you. But the idea of finally seeing him had caused the pit of anxiety to form and you found yourself looking for excuses to push him away. And now your last memories of him would be seeing his bruised body being wheeled away from you, the way his voice had cut off with a squeal of tires, and the sound of glass breaking. All because you’d put a distance between the both of you because you felt that intense feeling that you could no longer ignore. It had first started that night when his back became a canvas for your art, and his soft gasps whenever the cold paint hit his skin had ingrained themselves in your brain. The gasps and giggles mixed in with the smell of paint and you felt yourself falling more and more in love with Calum, seeing yourself old and gray with him. It had been terrifying and the shapes you’d made with paint had become nothing but a blur of colors.

“I love you,” he mumbled against his arm, watching as you’d started packing up the paints and brushes you’d just used on his skin, “You know that?”

“Mhm, and lucky for you,” you teased, pushing down the pit of fear into the back of your mind, “I am deeply in love with you.”

That’s what loving Calum had always been, a blur of beautiful colors.

The air had begun to pick up now, swirling and swinging around the sky as the storm grew closer and closer. Not that it mattered much, your face was already soaked with tears and stained by the black mascara that had been running down ever since you’d walked out of the hospital. You wished he’d be by your side, hugging you and telling you it would all be okay. If you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could hear his voice, modulated over the speaker of your phone as he told you about his day. He’d been trying to distract you again, the frustration of your newest piece not looking how you’d imagined bringing you close to tears.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah? And then you can paint all over my body so you can find inspiration. I promise.” he chuckled quietly, probably laying in a dark room across an ocean.

“I miss you,” you sighed, watching the sunrise out your window and rubbing at your tired eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, a smile in his voice, as if those were the only three words you needed to hear. Maybe they were, maybe those were the three little words you would remember before the crash pulled him away from you.

Time seemed to tick by slowly, almost torturing you, as your eyes drifted from the ocean storm ahead to the screen of your phone. You knew it was coming, the call that would change your life forever. The one that would leave you broken and shattered on the beach like the shells that had crunched under your feet. Soon enough, the buzz of your phone would bring the time with Calum to an end. Soon, it would just be you, the ocean breeze, and the memory of Calum. The crack of thunder shook the world around you, almost making you miss the sharp shrill that came from your phone, the screen lighting up with a picture of Calum you’d taken a few months back. Your lungs froze, hands shaking as your thumb slid over the screen and accepted the call, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

“H-hello?” you asked, mentally preparing for the tears that would fill the ocean with salty tears.

“I think I-I forgot to say your name and they wouldn’t let me in no matter how many times I asked,” you stuttered out, your feet carrying you back towards the sidewalk, towards Calum, “I love you so much I’m so sorry I’ve been so far away.”

That’s what you would’ve said to Calum, if you’d only had more time and if you had said no to more events. You would’ve spilled your heart out to him, telling him all the secret words you had only whispered in the darkness of the room when you were sure Calum was asleep and his soft snores confirmed he’d never hear them. And even then, as the static of the ocean makes it hard for you to hear the call connect, the waves crashing onto the shore as the wind picks up doesn’t matter. Nothing matters then because the sharp inhale of air brings them to a dangerous silence, a silence that hurts your ears as the ocean, the waves, thunder, and air all come to an end with a soft whisper.

“Baby?” Calum’s voice spoke out, the softness of it laced with a pain you wished you could take away. But it was Calum’s voice and that itself felt like a lightning bolt to the chest, a breath of fresh air, and a cold wave to wake them up.

And that cold bench on Coney Island feels like the warmth of his voice.

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#calum hood x reader #calum hood imagines #calum hood fics #calum hood #calum hood blurbs #calum hood fanfic #calum hood oneshots #5sos x reader #5sos x you #calum hood x you #5sos imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos fics #5sos fanfic #5sos oneshots #5sos #5 seconds of summer lyrics #gemma writes #songs for calum

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whiskery-louis · 4 years ago

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Game Night

** Hi everyone here is my first imagine in a while and it is pretty long and there will be a part 2!

Synopsis: Luke and you broke up 6 months ago. Ashton invites you over for game night.

Luke Hemmings x reader

Warnings: None

Please enjoy and let me know what you think!!

*not my photo*

“Come on Y/N you have to come see us! We’re traveling across the country just to see you!” Ashton whined through the phone.

“Well I didn’t ask you too Ash. I can’t risk seeing him-”

“He’s not coming, he’s staying here with her. Hell I don’t even think he knows we left.”

You sighed, “Who exactly is ‘we’?”

“Me and Mikey,” you could hear the smile in his voice. You had always been the closest to him and Michael. Not that you and Calum weren’t close, it was just different.

“What about Cal?” you asked.

“He’s staying back so you know who doesn’t get suspicious about the three of us all leaving for a weekend.”

“I don’t know Ash,” you sighed again. “I have work and stuff. Plus I was supposed to see the twins this weekend, and I wanted to go to Target…” you trailed off as you rattled on with excuses.

“Oh please, you know you miss us just as much as we miss you. It’s been six months Y/N, just come hangout for the night. I promise it’s not gonna be anything big. Just you, me, Mike and Crystal. We’ll just do pizza and play some games. Please Y/N, we’re already at the airport and if you don’t come willingly we got your new address from Lacey.”

You mentally cursed your best friend, she knew you specifically didn’t give any of them your new address for this very reason. You were out of excuses and you could hear Ashton’s smirk through the phone. He had you cornered and he knew it.

“Fine. Text me your Airbnb info and I’ll come over tomorrow when I’m done work. But you better be getting the good pizza, and there better be drinks.”

“Yes she’s in!” you heard Mikey yell in the background. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread over your face.

“Bye boys, safe flight.”

You hung up the phone and put your head in your hands. While part of you was very excited to see Ashton and Michael again there was still a part of you that was worried. There was too much history between you and him so of course they all knew about it. They tried not to take sides during the break up but everyone knew he had Calum and you had the other two. It was part of the reason that you had moved back home instead of trying to find a place to stay in L.A.. You could feel the tension that was building between the four of them and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin their friendships or their band. It was all way more important than you.

You hadn’t really spoken to any of them much other than the casual ‘how are you’ texts here and there. But from him it had been radio silence for six months. Now here you were, five minute after speaking with Ashton and you were already more stressed than you’d be in week. What did you get yourself into?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearing 6:15 and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull up to the house, you had been circling the block for almost 20 minutes and every time you were about to stop you told yourself one more lap. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you, you knew it was only Ash, Mike and Crystal and yet just the thought of being around his friends was enough to make you sick.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, finally pulling into the drive. You grabbed your bag, and although you hated to admit it, you were excited to see your old friends.

You walked up to the door and hesitantly knocked on it. As soon as your knuckles hit the wood you could hear yelling and footsteps running up to the door.

“Y/N!!!” Ashton yelled engulfing you in a massive hug.

“Can’t breathe…”

“Oi sorry, I’ve just missed you lots.”

“I missed you too.” you grinned at him, wondering what you had been worried about all day. It felt like no time had passed.

“Well let her in the door man,” Michael spoke up from behind.

You smiled as you entered the house and walked over to Mikey hugging him hard.

“It’s been too long,” he muttered as he let you back.

“Well yeah, that kinda happens when there’s a global pandemic and I move across the county.”

You could tell Michael was going to tell you off for moving but Crystal came in the room then and thankfully saved you from talking about him.

She wrapped her arms around you giving you a quick hug, “It’s so good to see you, I’m glad you made it!”

“Me too, though if I didn’t come willingly I knew you’d show up on my doorstep.”

“You got that right,” she laughed, “It took all my energy to keep them in the house all day.”

“Well I appreciate it, I had a lot of work to get through today figuring I’ll still be hungover on Monday from this weekend.”

It was fitting that as soon as I mentioned being hungover we walked into the kitchen to a full stocked bar.

“Man I forgot you guys really go all out for game nights,” you couldn’t help but laugh at some of the fond memories.

“Okay so what game are we playing first?” Ashton asked as he handed you a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later and you really didn’t understand why you were so nervous to come. It was one of the best feelings catching up with your old friends and thankfully they didn’t bring him up once. You were in the middle of an intense game of charades, Crystal and you were kicking the boys asses.

“Alright do you guys want to give up yet? You’re never going to beat us so why not save yourselves the embarrassment.”

They both looked annoyed at how the game was progressing, “Well maybe if Mike could draw anything other than stick figures we would’ve stood a chance.” Ashton grumbled.

“And now you see why I always make sure someone else gets stuck with him,” Crystal laughed as she dodged the pen Michael threw at her.

You all laughed as you cleaned up and you went over to the stack of games, contemplating what you wanted to play next. You guys had made your way through a few different games and a few rounds of drinks and honestly you were exhausted. Since moving back home you didn’t hang out with many people other than Lacey and you forgot how much energy it took to be around people. You were tired but it was the best kind of tired.

“Can we just watch a movie now? I’m tired of losing,” MIchael whined from the couch.

“That’s exactly what a sore loser would say,” you shot back.

Michael just smiled and shrugged his shoulders looking at you, “At least I know it, but I so call picking the movie.” He picked up the remote and started searching through Netflix looking for a good comedy that everyone would watch.

“Anyone up for another round?” Ashton asked and you nodded following him into the kitchen to help. It was silent as he rummaged through the alcohol looking for something new to drink. You hopped up on the counter waiting to see what he would make.

“So how have you really been?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him, startly by his question and you could see him looking at you intently and knew exactly what he was talking about, or more so who he was talking about.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated what to tell him. “I’ve been fine.” you answered shortly.

He scoffed at your answer, “Come on Y/N, I know you better than that and as relaxed as you seem, there is still a part of you that is on edge. You ghosted us all when you left and it was like we lost a member of our family. So tell me the truth, how are you really?”

His answer startled you, and you blinked to keep the tears at bay. “Ash I really don’t wanna ruin the night and talk about him. Can we just table it for now and go back in there with Mike and Crystal. I really don't wanna bring the mood down.” You stared back at him and there must’ve been something in your eyes because he dropped it. He handed you a drink and the two of you went back into the other room.

“Hey what were you two talking about?” Crystal asked as you sat next to her on the couch, a knowing look in her eye.

You elbowed her subtly, “Debating if Mikey was gonna pick a shitty movie or not,” you laughed.

“Don’t hate until you see it, it’s a good one you all like.” He pointed to the TV and you saw Shrek was on. “Also you could say thank you I ordered a pizza and it should be here in about 30 minutes.”

“Didn’t you just eat a plate of buffalo chicken dip and mac’n’cheese?”

He shrugged, “If it’s a problem Y/N then you can’t have any.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

You held your hands up in defense “No, no. Just asking, I’m for sure eating that pizza.”

“That’s what I thought,” Michael replied smugly.

You just rolled your eyes at him and sat back to begin the movie. Not even 10 minutes later and there was a knock on the door.

“Y/N since you were so judgy you can go answer the door.”

“Fine, fine. Though you suck at telling time Mikey, this was way less than 30 minutes.”

You got up from the couch and made your way to the door excited that the pizza was here much earlier than anticipated. There was another knock on the door as you were opening it. You froze when you saw who was there.

Luke.

He must not have been expecting you either because he had a dumbfounded look on his face, and his fist was frozen in mid knock.

“Y/N?” he breathed, his eyes boring into yours.

It was silent and you both just stood there and stared at each other. It had been six months since you had seen him and although there were some noticeable changes he was still the same Luke who broke your heart all those months ago. His arms were larger and his shoulders slightly broader. His hair was longer, his roots growing out which somehow suited him more. He had shaved his quarantine beard but the stubble was growing back. His eyes were the same blue that you fell in love with, but they were missing the usual mischievous glint.

“Luke why are you just-” Calum was caught off walking up behind Luke, his face lighting up when he saw you. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” He squeezed past Luke and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You had no words as you hugged Cal back, you were still in shock at them being here and you couldn’t take your eyes off Luke,

“What the hell is taking so long?” Ashton came around the corner and froze when he saw the new additions to the party. “Oh you guys are early…” he trailed off.

At his statement you felt the rage building in your veins, you pushed Calum off of you turning to Ashton the anger seeping out of you. “I’m sorry what? They’re what Ashton?”

He looked sheepishly at you, “Surprise?” he shrugged his shoulders, with a slight smile on his face.

You couldn’t believe this. It was all a setup. The whole night was a trick for you to see him again when Ashton knew more than anything that it was the last thing you wanted. You were at a loss for words, as much as you wanted to yell, you didn’t have the energy anymore.

“Look we can explain…”

You held your hand up cutting him off, “Don’t Ashton, just don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I’m leaving.”

You stormed into the other room, to get you things. MIchael was trying to look busy but the guilt was written all over his face. Crystal was sitting next to him with her arms crossed glaring at her fiance, she looked up when you walked in.

“I am so sorry Y/N, I had no idea or I would’ve never let them pull this stunt.”

You gave her a weak smile, “I’m just going to get my things and go.”

Michael turned and looked like he was going to say something, but one look from Crystal silenced him.

“Thanks for the fun while it lasted, but please don’t reach out again,” you heard footsteps behind you and knew the others had followed you into the room. “I thought maybe I could be friends with some of you,” you pointedly looked at Luke, “But if this is the shit you are going to pull them I am out. I’m sorry but I cannot go through this again. I just can’t.”

With that you grabbed your bag and all but ran out of the house. As you sat in your car you were thankful that you didn’t have too much to drink and were able to drive yourself home. The thirty minute drive seemed to take forever. All you wanted was your bed and to be distracted by Netflix. After what felt like an eternity you pulled into your driveway and walked into your house. You threw your bag on the table and couldn't believe the night you had. You knew Ashton and Michael had wanted you to talk to Luke when you first broke up, but that was six months ago. You never thought that they would pull this shit tonight. It was almost more painful this time as you realized you had to cut all of them out of your life and not just Luke.

You hadn’t expected to see him tonight and it really messed you up. You had spent the last six month erasing him from your life, as much as you could. You put everything he gave you into a box that was hidden in your basement. You tried to throw it away but it felt wrong somehow. He was too big a part of your life to completely get rid of. Lacey once asked you why you didn’t get rid of it all and you knew she thought it meant you still loved him but that wasn’t it. You just couldn’t bear to part with everything that had once brought you so much happiness. You hadn’t opened the box since you moved back home, as you went downstairs to bring it to the kitchen, you knew it was going to hurt more after seeing him tonight, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You spent over an hour looking through all the memories the two of you had made during your time together and you were a mess sitting on the floor with tears rolling down your face. Maybe it was from the exhaustion that raked your body or the alcohol that was still in your system but you left the contents of the box sprawled over the island and slipped on his old Nirvana shirt before going to your bed and finally falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next thing you knew you were being jolted awake by a banging on your door. You looked at the clock and groaned when you saw it was only 8:00am. Who the hell would be here so early. Hoping it was just a package you rolled back over and tried to fall back asleep, when the person knocked again.

You signed as you rolled out of bed and trudged downstairs in nothing but the old shirt you fell asleep in. Rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the brightness, you opened the door and had to squint to see who was there.

“Y/N, you uh forgot your phone and I wanted to make sure it got back to you safely.”

You hated that your heart skipped a beat as your name rolled off his lips, your eyes focused on him and the events of last night came back to you instantly.

“Luke.”

#luke imagine #luke hemmings #luke hemmings imagine #ashton irwin #michael clifford #calum hood #5sos #5sos imagine #ashton imagine #michael imagine #mikey #cal #calum imagine #luke hemmings preference

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

Step Into The Daylight - Part 11

Summary: Cal Kestis offers some more insight into who your mysterious son is.

A/N: Thank you guys for being so, so patient and still being excited for me to update. I feel like my Din muse has returned and I hope you enjoy! Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: spoilers for up to s2, e5

SERIES MASTERLIST

MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Oh," your heart fell as you looked down at the little one sitting on the floor and cooing happily. He looked between the between you and Din before turning his gaze back to Cal, and the figures behind "is there...do you know anything about him? I don't know how...I'm still learning how to properly wield the force and I can't..."

"Yes," he said as he gently held out his hand to the little. You felt Din tense slightly at your side and gently put your hand on top of his, giving him a gentle squeeze, "come here, little one."

The child slowly clambered up, grabbing one of Cal's fingers and letting the Jedi pick him up. He cooed quietly as a wave of emotions splashed over Cal's face. You wondered if this was hard for him, if it reminded him of the mysterious Master Yoda, if it reminded him of the days before he, like so many others, lost everything.

"We'll go," you offered quietly as you motioned for Din and the others to follow you, along with Jeele. Din stiffened at first but didn't question your judgment and then followed after you.

You settled back down in the kitchen, the six of silent as you let a long huff of air.

“Where are my manners,” you shifted next to Din and studied each of the new figures in turn. There was another woman, older in appearance with warm, dark skin and a kind face, a younger woman covered in tattoo-like markings and white blonde hair, as well as a smaller figure that you recognized as a Latero. You offered them your name before turning to your Mandalorian, “this is Mando and I believe you’ve met Jeele already.”

“Cere Junda,” the older woman stuck out her hand and gave you and a firm handshake, “this is Merrin and Greeze. We work with Cal; you just be the mysterious Jedi.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever qualify to have that title,” you admitted, “not since the order is all but gone. But...you are. I can feel it - the force is strong with you.”

“It once was,” she confessed as a tight smile crossed her features, “but I no longer use it. Much as happened since the fall of the Order, and much of it I’d like to forget. The pull to the dark is too strong sometimes...I’m sure you must have felt it.”

You tensed as her words washed over and Din’s gaze shifted to you. You swallowed thickly as you realized that she was right; what you’d felt, especially in the crystal cave was strong, that call to chaos and violence, the pull to the dark. But you were strong enough to resist it then and you hoped to continue to be, “y-yes...I’ve felt it before.”

“It will get easier over time,” she promised, almost as if she could hear you fears and worries, but then again, you supposed she probably could, “Merrin is a Night Sister. You probably feel the energy from her too.”

“A Night Sister,” you said as the younger woman offered you a small smile, “from Dathomir? You use Magick, don’t you?”

“I do,” she agreed, “you are well versed in your histories aren’t you?”

“I had a lot of time when I was studying by myself, I tried to learn a little about a lot, but I would not consider myself an expert by any means. Your people have been through much.”

“As have yours,” she reached across the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “we’re survivors, we make due with what we have, and stick together.”

“Together is the only way we survive,” you agreed before you turned your attention to the last of Cal’s crew, “it’s nice to meet you too. Greeze?”

“At your service,” he sounded entirely neutral as he looked over the two of you, eyes lingering on the Mandalorian, “don’t see many of you anymore. What are you doing with a little Jedi? I thought Jedi were the enemies of the Mandalore?”

“It’s a long story,” you begin, thinking about the day you’d met your mysterious Mandalorian, sure that it was going to be the last day of your life. Little did you know that it would be the beginning of your entirely knew life, one will with more adventure, and love, than ever before. You turned to Din and offered him a small smile, sure that he was giving you the same one in return, “but to make it short, I had a bounty on my head, and he ended up saving me both from my injuries and capture, and the rest is history really.”

“Oh jeeze, another love story,” Greeze sighed jokingly as your cheeks turned warm, causing you to pointedly keep your gaze away from Din, although both of you now knew that’s exactly what it was, but so much more than that, “what is it with Jedi and forming attachments, I thought that wasn’t allowed.”

“It wasn’t,” Cere said sharply, “which is one of the many reasons the Jedi Order fell. I never quite did understand that part, I do...but it never made sense.”

“Good thing I’m not a Jedi then,” you said softly as the whole table laughed, “because I would have been doomed a long time ago.”

Din’s hand was on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze as he watched you closely, a rush of emotions coursing through his blood.

“Listen, Cal told us about your crystal. Which means it’s time construct your own lightsaber,” Cere explained as you sat up with excitement. You’d been through hell and back to get that crystal and you were going to build that saber no matter what, “we have materials for the hilt back on our ship, we’ll get it all out for you. When you’re ready, come find us and then you can build.”

“Thank you,” your breath caught in your throat as you stared at table and let out a long breath.

“It’s a big step, and a right of passage,” Cere acknowledged, “take your time and find us once you’re sure.”

“I will,” you promised. The three of them stood up and started to head back to their own ship, with Jeele giving you a small nod and following them. It must have been a comfort to her as well to have other people who had experienced the same things around. They knew all the same heartbreak and loss.

Once when they were gone and silence fell over the two of you again, you let out a long sigh, just as Din did the same.

"You don't think-"

"No," you promised, "I don't think Cal is going to do anything. We can trust him, I can sense it."

"Do you think we'll get answers...something? Maybe he can help train him," he started babbling as you reached up and put your hand on the cowl at his neck giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze, "I don't know if...I’m not...”

"I know," you replied softly as you understood exactly what he was trying to say, "you know what we have to do. Whatever happens, we'll get through it. We're a family, Din and nothing is going to change that. You don't have to do this alone...I will be here with you every step of the way."

He remained silent for a few moments, and you could hear a few heavy, long exhales come through the vocoder of his helmet. You remained silent but put your head on his shoulder, watching as he put a hand on your thigh. You put your hand on top of his and he silently laced your fingers together.

In all honesty, you weren't prepared for what might be coming. You'd been waiting and looking for more information about the mysterious small child, your son, but now that you might be getting some answers it all felt...gut wrenching. You wanted to know more about him and how to help him for his sake as much as yours and Din's. But at the end of it all, his was Din's son, and yours. Parting with him... it would be...almost impossible, but if it was what needed to happen, then you would do it. You were sure it wouldn't be forever, something in your heart told you that at the end of the day, your family would always be together.

The silence was tense at first, stiff as you both tried to come to terms with things that might soon be happening. But it soon shifted into something much more bearable and comfortable. One of the many things that you loved about your ever blossoming relationship with the Mandalorian was how the two of you could easily read each other. You rested your head on his shoulder as his hand was firmly on your thigh.

"Din?"

"Yes, Mesh'la?" his voice was tired, bells, he was tired and exhausted but he kept going; because of you and your son.

"We're going to be okay," you promised him again, feeling the need to reassure both of you again, "just like I had to leave the two of you for a while, this might be the same. But look, we're back together. The force...it works how its supposed and I know we're going to be together always. I saw it..."

"A Mandalorian and a Jedi," he huffed lightly, "they would never have seen it coming."

"Times change as do all things," you agreed, "but we are neither. I'm just me and you're just you. Aliit."

"Aliit," he agreed. You could see him leaning ever so slightly towards the door as you laughed lightly, "do you think..."

"Let's go and check," you stood up and offered him your hand, which he took without hesitation. The two of you slowly padded down the hallway, remaining silent as you walked back into the hull.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't the sight that met your eyes. On the floor, almost as unchanged as when you'd first, were Cal and your son, intently staring at each other. Din looked between the two of them before turning to you.

"They're communicating," you whispered softly, "they can understand each other's thoughts...its a skill you learn and improve over time...I'm afraid I'm not quite there yet."

"Thoughts," Din repeated as you nodded slowly. Almost as if on cue, Cal broke his gaze with the little one and turned to you.

"He wants me to tell you something," Cal as you approached the duo and sat down on the floor next to them with Din following suit. The little one turned me looked at both of excitedly, "his name. His name is Grogu."

“Grogu,” the name, gentle and soft, completely unexpected and yet perfectly fitting, caught in your throat. The tears that welled up in your eyes were immediate as you looked at the same green creature on the floor. After all this time, you finally knew his name. Grogu. He turned to, a little smile on his face as his ears perked up in excitement, “hi, my love.”

“Grogu,” Din repeated and the little one’s response was enough to make your heart melt. He cooed happily, nothing but happy little noises as he clambered to his feet and headed straight for Din. He stopped in front of his legs, holding his little arms up as he waiting for Din to pick him up. He hesitated for just a moment and you were positive you heard a small sniffle from under the helmet as DIn gently scooped him up in his arms before holding him tightly to his chest. It was silent for a moment as the two embraced each other before pulling apart as Din pressed the his helmet tenderly against his forehead, “Grogu.”

“Cal,” you reached over and back the child, no, Grogu’s back and gently rubbed it in a sign of reassurance, “can you tell us anything more about him?”

“I was able to get some more out of him,” he confessed, “but there’s a lot of...holes, dark spots, in his memory. Parts of his memory are almost blank; he spent a lot of time in hiding, in fear...he was alone and scared for a long time. He hid his powers, lost touch with them for years in order to survive. His ability to adapt and blend in led to his survival.”

“But he’s used them recently,” you raised an eyebrow as Grogu made a small sound.

“He feels safe,” Cal explained as Grogu appeared to nod, “he feels protected when he’s with both of you.”

“H-he does?” Din’s voice cracked as Grogu held onto one of his gloved fingers, “I’ve always wondered...”

“Yes,” Cal promised with a gentle smile of his own, “he’s formed a strong attachment to you, both of you. He thinks of you as parents.”

“We think of him as ours,” Din’s free arm found its way around your waist as you nodded, trying to take in and adsorb everything. That mean he understand you both, he knew just how much you loved him and how much you both cared.

“Where was he before? Before he was found?” Cal’s face fell slightly at your question, an almost upset expression crossing his features, “Cal?”

“At the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” he explained. Where your brother hand been. Where Cal had been. Before they lost everything, “he had several teachers over the years, but during the purge he was smuggled out and put into hiding. He was lucky...like me. We survived unlike so many of our brothers and sisters.”

“You both went through so much, Cal, but you survived, that’s the important part,” your voice was gentle as the ginger haired man closed his eyes and let out a long breath. You had no doubt that the memories still plagued him often; survivor’s guilt. You all had in one form or another, “but who saved him? Why just him? Not that I don’t love him, but what’s so special about him?”

“I don’t know,” Cal shook his head in defeat as he looked at Grogu with a sad little half smile, “he doesn’t remember...or he’s blocked it out.”

“Another piece we still need to figure out,” while you felt slightly defeated, you were happy in turn. You knew a little bit more about him and his origins, and if nothing else, you had a name and you knew that he loved you both as much as you loved him.

“The most important question is - what does the Empire want with him?” Din kept his voice down, although the frustration was evident as he held Grogu close to his chest. All the excitement of what had been going on had slowly worn him down and he was started to loose the fight against slumber, “there was a scientist, he was trying to do something to him, but I took him back before they could do anything further.”

“The Empire doesn’t exist anymore,” you reminded Din as the men sighed deeply in unison; if it wasn’t for the severity of the situation, you would have laughed.

“The Empire still exists, it always has,” Cal offered as Din nodded, “under different names in different forms. Evil is always out there, and there’s been...stirrings about.”

“Of what?!”

“A new order,” Cal confessed quietly as you grimaced. None of that sounded good in the slightest, “but that’s just among many other things going on.”

“I...we’ve been tasked to bring him back to his people,” Din said as a look of realization crossed his features, “whether’s that his native people or the Jedi we don’t know.”

“There’s not many Jedi left,” Cal stated the obvious as you nodded, “especially not fulled trained Jedi like Jeele or Cere.”

“What about you, Cal?” you asked, knowing that Din was reluctant to do so. It would be hard on you both, but you knew what you had to do, “can you train him?”

“No,” he shook his head as you and exchanged a look of surprise with your Mandalorian, “his attachment to the two of you...it’s very strong. Emotional bonds by Jedi are forbidden for a reason-”

“Surely you can’t believe that.”

“We’ve all seen what an emotional attachment can lead to...it can lead to great things, but horrible, terrible ones as well,” he closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped forward, “Darth Vader was once a Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker. He was one of the most powerful Jedi of all time and yet we all know what happened with Darth Vader.”

You breath hitched in your throat as you thought back to all the horrors and atrocities that had plagued not just your childhood, but Din’s as well, and those of countless others, “what do we do then? How do we...”

“I don’t know,” he let his words linger in the air as he slowly leaned over and gently stroked Grogu’s soft ears. The little one was curled up in Din’s arms, the tiniest snores emanating from his mouth, “but I can’t take...I don’t want to set him down the wrong path.”

“Where do we go from here?” your question hung in the air as you exchanged a worried looked with Din. Part of your heart was elated that this meant you wouldn’t have to part ways with him just yet, but confused hung over in clouds as well. Despite all this time and effort, you were still no closer to figuring how the overarching mystery of it all, “if you won’t train him...”

“There is another place...Tython,” he perked up suddenly, “there’s a Jedi Temple there...it’s been long abandoned but has always had a strong connection, but if you take him there and he reaches out through the force, another Jedi somewhere might hear him and come.”

“If...”

“Like I said, there’s not many Jedi left,” he grimaced, “but someone might hear him. But it’s up to him, if he chooses to reach out. It’s his decision to make.”

“We’ll do it,” Din said quietly as he looked at his son sleeping in his arms, “if it could possibly help. Whatever it takes.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “we’re in this together.”

“I’m sure he’ll make the right decision,” Cal slowly rose to his feet, pausing as he studied the three of you. It reminded him of his own little found family, of Cere, or Merrin, or Greeze, and how no matter what, they were his family, “I think he’s already made his decision.”

"What do you mean?" you stood up and followed Cal as he walked towards the ramp to rejoin his own crew. Putting a hand on his arm, you gently stopped him, "what decision has he made?"

"You'll see," he promised quietly, casting a look back at the Mandalorian who was whispering gently to the small bundle, "I'm sorry I can't provide more answers, but I know you'll get them. But you - when you're ready, come and find us to build your saber. After that, I'm afraid our ways will have to part."

"Thank you, Cal Kestis," before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him and embraced him as though your life depended on it. He stiffened for a moment before responding in kind, "you've already given us so much."

He gave you a solemn nod, looking back at your Mandalorian before you, watching as your face softened, "may the force be with you."

"May the force be with you," you replied, closing the ramp back after he disappeared into the snow to keep the chill at bay.

You were silent for a moment, head practically spinning with everything going on, but one thing you for sure was that you loved your little family more than anything.

"Mesh'la?" Din tilted the helmet up at you, keeping your quiet gaze for a moment. You struggled to hold back tears as you slowly made your way over to your boys, "is everything okay?"

"I...umm...yes," not a position to even begin to try to explain your emotions, you held your hand and motioned for him to take it. Without hesitation, Din gently enveloped your hand with his and rose to his full height.

“I’m just...it’s a lot to take in. All of it.”

“Yes,” he commented gruffly, almost reminding you of the tone had adopted when you’d first met him. Your heart sank slightly at the thought and you hoped he wasn’t retreating into himself. Reaching up, you put your hand on the part of his neck that was covered in fabric and gave him a reassuring touch.

“Let’s go and rest,” you whispered, feeling the gravitas start to weigh on you. Between everything that had happened in the last few days you were physically and mentally exhausted. The siren call of slumber was getting greater and greater with every passing second. Din seemed unsure for a moment but you weren’t going to let him pull away. You knew he was worried, maybe even terrified of what was to come, just as you were, but you wanted him to know that he was definitely not alone, “Din. I’ve got you, I promise. We’re a family, don’t forget that...please don’t shut us out.”

“I won’t,” it was a soft promise as he reached up and touched your cheek with his free hand, the other still holding tightly onto the little one. Keening into his touch, you exhaled slowly as he wiped away the single tray tear that had rolled down your cheek, “I won’t...”

“Come on,” you took his hand pulled him towards the small space that was deemed as your deemed, “the bed is small but we can make it work.”

And so he acquiesced, feeling calm and contented, almost as if he was glad to let someone else be in charge for once, glad to let be the follower instead of the leader.

Once you were inside the small room, which made him look even more massive and broad, you reached for Grogu, taking care not to wake him up as you set in your bed, bundling him in blankets to keep him warm. He made a small sound, but quickly snuggled deeper into the blankets as your heart melted.

Turning your attention back to Din, you reached for his arm, slowly, waiting for him to stop you if he so chose.

But he didn’t. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as you worked to tenderly take off each piece of armor, starting with his boots. Setting each piece down gently, you didn’t stop until you were at his pauldrons, when you hesitated slightly. He was almost bare now, left in only his underclothes as he watched you work. Your breathing had become slow and methodical as you worked and you noticed that his had done the same

Something palpable had shifted; you weren’t quite able to put your finger on it, but you could both sense it. Once the armor was stripped from his shoulders, you let your hands linger on them, offering him a reassuring squeeze before moving to pull away to switch off the lights so he could remove the helmet if he chose to. But before you could move, his hands went to your wrists and held your hands on his shoulders.

“Din...” his name was soft but caught in your throat as you gazed into his visor.

“I want...” he trailed off, a shaky exhale leaving the vocoder as you tried to pick his words carefully, “we’re family.”

“Yes,” you agreed with a gentle smile, “we are.”

“Y-you’re staying...right?”

“Always, Din,” you promised quickly, “always. We were meant to find each other, to be together. I love you more than anything.”

“I love you,” his heart settled a little bit as he spoke the words aloud, reaffirming himself that this was real, “and I want you to be my wife - my riduur.”

“Din...I...” you nodded, your words not needing to be spoken as you both understood loud and clear what you were saying. His hands were firm but gentle on yours as he slowly moved them closer and closer to his cowl and the metal exterior of his ever present helmet, “you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he rasped as you tried to keep your lips from trembling, “but I want to. You have never once asked, attempted to look, judged, or made a big deal out of it. If there is anyone in the galaxy that deserves this it’s you. The one I want to spend the rest of my days with. We found each other as hunter and prey, and look where we are now.”

“So different and yet utterly the same.”

“The first time you left,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to collect himself, “I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never felt such a loss, such an emptiness before. I had to find you. But the second time...it was still hard, but it hurt less. I knew you’d be back, and we would be together again...”

“I felt the same way,” you confessed breathlessly, positive that your heart was about to burst out of your chest at his words, “it was the worst time of my life. Even once I’d accepted that you were gone, I still held onto hope that would we would be together again.”

“And now? I can’t imagine a day without you,” you sighed contentedly as you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his beskar, “I will follow you to the ends of the galaxy, Mesh’la. You...you and Grogu are everything. You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

“Are you sure about this?” it was a mere whisper off your lips as it hung in the air for a few moments as Din weighed the gravitas of the moment. He inhaled deeply before nodding once.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in life than this,” his words were enough to make you melt on the spot as he slowly brought your hands to the side of his helmet. He didn’t remove his own, his large, warm hands covered your own as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, began to push it up. He halted for just one moment before whispered, “together.”

“Together,” you agreed as the helmet started to come up, higher and higher, inch by blissful inch. Out of habit, or instinct, or whatever you wanted to call it, you squeezed your eyes shut, not daring to sneak a peek. Once it was completely lifted from his head and he released your hands to set the helmet along with the rest of his armor.

“Open your eyes, Mesh’la,” and gods did you almost choke as a strangled sound caught in your throat. His voice was warm and honeyed, that same baritone you’d heard before, but something was different about this. He reached up and touched your cheek, stroking it gently, “it’s okay...”

“Din,” it so damn soft that weren’t even sure that you’d said anything. And then slowly, little but little, you opened your eyes, blinking away the bleariness before finding him. And then you did it was like your heart stopped then and there as your world fell apartment and came back together all at once.

Din. Din Djarin. Your love. Your soon to be riduur was starting at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen.

He was a mixture of emotions, nervous, relieved, excited, overwhelmed, scared, happy.

But then, as you reached up and found his face, studying him astutely, he realized what it was more than anything else.

Loved.

He was loved. So loved. And it radiated into every fiber of his being, golden like the sweetest daylight.

“Hi,” you choked out as your tears welled up in your ears. He was so lovely, even lovelier than your vision made him out to be. Reaching up, you put your hands on either side of his face as you traced over his features, committing each little bit to memory.

His lips, soft and plush, pulled in a little smile, completed with several days worth of stubble and a mustache that might have look silly on anyone else. His eyes, sweet and dark, crinkled slightly as his smile grew and a dimple of revealed. Those eyes that had seen such beauty and horror, so many things, and yet they still watched you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

As you carded a hand through his dark curls, he made a sound of content as you scratched at his scalp. His was utterly beautiful, and while a small part of you wished you’d gotten to see this side of him earlier, you knew this was moment was perfect.

“Hi,” he repeated as he waited for you to say something...anything else. Judging by your reaction, how still and soft you remained, he knew this was playing out just as it was meant to.

“That vision had nothing on you,” you beamed at him, warming every part of him as he visibly relaxed, “you are...everything, Din. No matter what you think. “

“May I kiss you?” it was a timid, shy little question as you eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and breathing him in. He smelled as delicious as he always did, warm and musky, a comforting smell that both ensnared you and grounded in the same moment.

“You don’t have to ask,” his hands found your waist as he pulled you close and crashed his lips onto yours. It was proper this, for the first, and hopefully many more to come. His lips chased yours in a gentle manner, although there was a sense of urgency behind his kisses.

Din pulled you against his body as you smiled against his lips, heart warming as you responded in kind. It wasn’t perfect by any means, a somewhat awkward, messy tangle of tongue and teeth as the two of you started to learn each other, in an entirely new way. But you wouldn’t have changed it any way at all. It was utterly perfect, and you knew then, just as you had before, that you were so in love with him.

The force might have worked in mysterious ways, but this was destined to be. You knew that wherever the two of you where, whatever happened, your souls would always find their way back to each other.

“I love you,” you grinned at him when you broke apart for a breath of air, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you raised your eyebrows at his words, attempting to figure out what he meant. You knew it was Mando’a, all of your time spent studying his culture had taught you that much, but it didn’t help with the translation. He laughed lightly at the confused expression, causing your mouth to form a small o.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s similar to I love you,” he promised, “it more or less means I hold you in my heart forever. More or less I love you.”

“I love it,” you replied with a small grin, “and you. Will you teach me?”

“Teach you what?” he asked you took his hand and started pulling him towards the bed where the little one still slept soundly, completely unawares that two worlds were changing right next to him.

“Mando’a,” you pulled back to the blankets and pointed at the bed, motioning for him to crawl under them. He was tired, his head spinning, and he was eager to take you up on that offer, “I’d like to learn, to be able to speak it with you...and one day, o-our son.”

“Cassian,” he remember as you nodded, feeling a flush of warmth enter your face at the sheer thought. You switched the light off and padded back over to him, watching as he scooted over to make room for you, leaving Grogu nestled in between the two of you, “are you warm enough?”

“Yes,” you made yourself comfortable, snuggling into the pillows and blankets as his arm found its around your waist, his longer legs tangled with yours, “perfect. I wouldn’t change this for anything.”

“Me neither,” he agreed as he felt his eyes start to get heavy with sleep. This moment was everything; the three of you together as one little family. Which, he now knew, was exactly what you always had been, even when neither of you knew it, “rest now, Mesh’la.”

“You too Din,” you grabbed his hand with yours and laced your fingers together, “promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“That isn’t a dream? This is all real.”

“It’s not a dream,” he reassured you, “this is all very real. And tomorrow we’ll still all be here.”

“Good,” you brought his hand to your lips as you kissed his knuckles, “good. I love you, Din.”

“I love you too, Mesh’la. Now and always.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #sitd #series #ff #my fic #fem reader

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cottoncanb · 4 years ago

Text

Sunday Kind of Love (Calum Hood Imagine)

Hey guys, I hope you're all well and taking care of yourselves. I hope you guys like this, I am a little rusty (it's been a while since I've written). This piece is special to me, not just because I can't get Calum out of my head but also because it's personal. In this, Y/N is black. I've noticed there aren't a lot of POC writers and I want to do my best to play my part. Of course anyone and everyone is welcome to read it but I did write this with black women in mind.

Synopsis: The one in which Cal and Y/N’s spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: lots of fluff

I hope you like it, let me know what your favourite part is.

Be kind to yourself, and others. I love you.

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

Valentine’s day had never been anything special for Y/N. Maybe once or twice she and a friend had been valentines, but there was never anything romantic about it. Did she expect anything different this year? Not necessarily, because she understood the danger that came with expectations. Almost every year she expected just someone to show her interest on the stupid day, maybe buy her a chocolate bar or even a single rose. It never happened. Naturally, she lost hope as the disappointment grew over the years.

Now, though, there is a sliver of hope because she is in a relationship with Calum. It may only have been a few months of their dating but that didn't mean her feelings for him weren't stronger than ever. As cheesy as it sounds, it felt like she had found her soulmate in him. And maybe just maybe this year she wanted to celebrate Valentine’s day. She wasn't expecting a room full of flowers and princess treatment (though she wouldn't be one to complain), just a romantic dinner would do.

She didn't tell Cal this, didn't know how to. The vulnerability that came with saying she wanted to be treated on that day was all too much. Cal, on the other hand, was a step ahead. He always wanted to treat his girl. This would be his chance to do it for the first time and he was not going to miss out on this opportunity. He’d planned every detail of their day, he wanted it to be perfect for his love.

Their day started with Y/N feeling his lips peppering kisses all over her face.

“Good morning to you too,” she said with a hint of amusement in her voice. It wasn't morning anymore, they had both slept in.

“Hi,” Cal said, finally bringing his lips to where he wanted most and giving her a soft kiss. “Sleep well?” he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, pressing his lips there. A soft hum sounded from Y/N as she lifted her hand to his head, burying her fingers in his curls. They lay together for a moment, enjoying their closeness. He traced his fingertips over her arms, a small smile playing on his lips when he felt goosebumps rise on her soft skin.

“I want to ask you something,” he said, whispering even though it was just the two of them in his room. He lifted his head, bringing his eyes to meet hers. “Will you be my valentine?” he said, his voice is hushed like even the smallest rise of his intonation could burst the bubble they were in. Y/N’s eyes came alive, and for a moment she was speechless. She stared back at him, waiting for him to smile and say he is joking and yet he didn’t. He was completely serious, eyes focused on hers.

“Of course I will,” her voice was small and she hoped she hid the nerves that suddenly made themselves known to her. She lifted her lips to his, pressing firmly against them. He brought his hands to her waist, fingers ghosting over the skin there before gaining a firm grasp on her waist. Their touches were soft and delicate, like the bubble they��re in. They moved with no hurry, he planted a few small kisses on her lips before catching her bottom lip between his.

He pulled away from the kiss first. “Alright, I don't want to get carried away. I've got your day planned, I'm sending you to a spa first while I set up for tonight. You’ve got an afternoon full of pampering”, he told her while rolling his body off hers. She pouted, wanting to stay in bed longer and have his body near hers but she couldn’t ignore the tinge of excitement she felt at the thought of being pampered. “I also made you breakfast, you need to eat before you leave,” he said, walking over to her side of the bed and pressing a kiss on her cheek before walking toward the door.

“And where are you going?”, finally bringing her body from the comfort of the mattress. He turned back and gave her a smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes before he sauntered out of the room. She fell back onto the mattress, smiling as she stared at the ceiling. This was her first Valentine’s day.

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

As per Calum’s request, Y/N spent the afternoon at a spa sipping wine and being pampered. She had a fresh set of nails, threaded eyebrows, a relaxed body, glowing skin and newly braided hair. She also got her makeup done at the spa, Cal told them to make her look even more beautiful than she already is. She looked and felt good. She felt even better walking into Calum’s home with a newfound air of confidence. It probably wouldn't last long, Cal turned her to putty with something as simple as a glance.

The house was quiet when she walked in, like no one had been in it for a few hours. It was dark too, with the exception of a single light that was on in his bedroom. “Cal, you here?” she said into the empty house. Met with no response, Y/N walked toward the light and into his bedroom. On his bed lay a single box with a note and rose atop it.

“Y/N,

I hope you enjoyed your afternoon. I’ve got your gifts wrapped in here. Please put them on for me. I’ll see you at 7.

-Cal”

She set the note and rose aside before carefully lifting the cover of the box. In it lay a dress, a necklace, a pair of heels (they weren't high, he knew she didn't like those) and a set of lingerie. Carefully, Y/N picked the dress up. It's made of a delicate red silk material, she marveled at its beauty with a smile playing on her lips. Next she picked up the lace ensemble, it was light in her hands. The black material lay in her fingers, intricate patterns danced over the bralette. Giddily she set it down before picking up the rose and doing a little dance. She felt like a thirteen year old who'd just been asked out by her crush.

She didn't have much to do in terms of getting ready. Her hair wasn’t in an afro so she didn't need to style it, her makeup was done; all she had to do was get dressed. Lifting the dress, she walked to the bathroom and got ready to put it on. Once she'd removed her last article of clothing, she picked the lingerie up and ran her eyes over the dainty material. It didn’t leave much to imagination (exactly why Calum had picked it). When it was on her skin Y/N turned and faced the mirror. Her eyes glanced over her body, a look of satisfaction on her face. She dragged the tips of her fingers from her hips to her neck, admiring how sexy she felt. Next, she eyed the dress, picking it up before slipping it on. She turned and grabbed the heels that Calum had selected, they were black with a thin strap across the toe. With the necklace in her hand, she walked back to the mirror and was proud of what she saw. With one final look to the mirror, she grinned before walking to sit on the bed and wait for Cal to get her.

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

Cal appeared at the door of his room not long after. He was dressed in a black suit, it was an amazing fit. His hair was styled and he’d painted his nails black. He looked good. When their eyes met his breath hitched, he hoped she didn't notice. She looked perfect in his eyes. Planting himself in front of her, he held his hand out for her to take and she did. Once on her feet, Cal pressed a single kiss on her lips before bringing his lips to her ear “You look perfect.”

He led her out of his room and outside into the garden of his home. A small gasp escaped Y/N’s lips as she took in the scenery, he placed fairy lights in the trees and lanterns hung from branches. He led her to the table and pulled her chair out, kissing her shoulder before he went and sat himself down. “I’m no MasterChef, but I did try my best,” Cal said, arms waving over the two plates set before them. Lifting the cover off of hers first, her eyes met lasagna. It looked a little burnt but she didn't mind. Cal made it so she loved it. He lifted the cover off of his plate and gestured for her to start eating. They ate in a comfortable silence. Every once in a while one would catch the other staring. Y/N felt warm all over. Cal watched her with an eye of adoration, his eyes saying all he couldn't at that moment.

“Are you finished?”Cal asked, breaking the quiet that had enveloped them. She nodded and cast a smile at him, thanking him silently for the meal. He gathered their plates and took them in the house and when he returned she heard music playing softly. He was playing their song- Sunday Kind of Love. Y/N rose to her feet and met Cal who was walking toward her. He took her hands and placed them on his shoulders, snaking his around waist where they settled before he pulled her toward him.

They swayed to the beat of the song, Cal leading their movements. Y/N rested her head on Cal’s chest, she could hear his heart beating if she focused hard enough. Cal was singing softly in her ear, pausing every odd minute to press a kiss on her cheek or forehead. When the song came to an end, she lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him with doughy eyes.

“I have something really cheesy to say”, he started, she laughed softly. “I know we haven't been together all that long but we’ve been together almost a year and this year with you is the happiest I've been in a while. That's because of you. You're like this irresistible light to me. I tried to stay away from you, believe me I did,” he paused chuckling, “but I'm happy I didn't because I get to call you my girl. You're my Sunday love. Mine. Today, especially, this means a lot. I know I haven't been the easiest person to be around but you've stuck with me and I appreciate that, Y/N. I just- I like you so much it hurts sometimes? Like I can't think straight and I want to live inside you?”. She throws her head back at this, he takes a mental picture of this moment because she looked so happy and he loved it.

“I like you a lot too, Cal.”

“No, I don't think you get it. I just- I don't know how to explain it but I just like you. A lot.”

“Yes, Cal, I get it. I really like you too.”

“But I really, really like you,” he said. Suddenly it hit him. He looked in her eyes which stared back at him fondly, a look of amusement in them as she watched him try to articulate his feelings. He loved her. He was in love with her. Once he realized it, it wouldn't stop playing in his head. It was like an incessant chant, repetitive and loud; it needed to be said.

“I love you.”

Y/N paused for a moment, he’d left her speechless once again. Hearing those words was foreign to her. She didn’t know she could be loved and here this perfect man was telling her the words she so desperately wanted to hear from a young age. Y/N grew up being told she wasn't lovable because of how she looked or acted, a bunch of stereotypes being shoved at her. She was too dark or too loud or too “manly-looking” or she wasn't someone's type because they couldn't look past her race. For a long time, this ate at her confidence, left her questioning if she could ever truly be loved for Y/N and not the Y/N someone wanted her to be. This was a lot to take in. She loved him too, of course she did. She knew it months ago when she watched him doing silly dances with Duke to cheer her up after she’d had a rough day; she just didnt know how to tell him.

“Love?” he breaks her train of thought, “I can hear you thinking from here. What's on your mind? You don't have to say it back. I understand if this is too soon, or if you just don't feel the same. I just wanted to let you know because-". She’d cut him off by kissing him. Her eyebrows furrowed with focus as she did so, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck and pulling herself flush against his chest. After pressing a few kisses on his lips, with the swipe of her tongue she parted his lips softly. He gripped her waist tighter at the feel of his tongue against hers, bringing an arm up to the back of her neck resting it under her braids and caressing the skin there.

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered, resting her forehead against his. She breathed heavily, as did he. He didn't mind. She loved him. She loved him. She closed her eyes for a moment, the intimacy getting too much. She felt like she was on cloud nine, feeling her heart pumping and trying to gather herself and calm down. He was the same. Except he stared at the woman in front of him. The woman he loved and cherished and he couldn't help but pull her onto him for a hug. He lifted her off of her feet for a moment before setting her back down, she let out a little squeal at this before looking at him once more. He brought his hand up to meet hers at his shoulders, bringing them in front of them both and pressing a kiss on them. Her heart fluttered at this.

“You love me?” he said, a childlike innocence lacing his voice.

“Yep. And you love me,” she said.

#calum hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sauce #calum 5sos #calum fluff #calum imagine #calum hood imagine #5sos fluff #5sos imagine #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings #michael clifford #Michael Clifford imagines #calum hood imagines #poc reader #calum x y/n #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagine

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

Note

Nesta comes home from the school run and finds Cassian asleep on the sofa with baby Andra asleep on his chest

So At Peace

Nessian modern au set in the The Seven Of Us universe (masterlist)

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: just fluff with some boobies jokes for my girls (Maizie, Sayo, Sim and Cass) cause they could sue me for emotional distress every day but they don’t and I call that friendship:)

Word count: 2,445

Nesta felt like she could close her eyes and never wake up again. Ezra and Cal were playing in the back seats of the car, screaming about fantastic animals and people with bat wings, fighting an evil king over some weird pan, but she wasn't paying that much attention.

It had only been two weeks since she had returned to work after Andra's birth, and although she no longer had any kind of physical pain that she could justify with her pregnancy, every now and then she felt as if her whole body was being crushed under a press, repeatedly, until not a single intact bone remained under her skin. And today had not been a light day.

Her boss had sent her so many manuscripts from authors who had explicitly asked for her, and she hadn't managed to finish a single one, when in normal circumstances - where she could sleep for more than four hours straight - she would have read at least two and started editing one.

But being a full-time mother of five young children and working in a publishing house was too much even for her sometimes.

She sighed with relief when she turned right and saw the house in that familiar light yellow. She couldn't wait to leave her two sons with the neighbour for a few hours and enjoy the evening with her husband and her little girl. She couldn't wait to lie down on the couch and sleep for a few minutes while she fed Andra and let Cassian take care of dinner.

The other two girls were at Gwyn's house, who, with all the recommendations and prodding Nesta had given her, had kicked her out of her house yelling not to come back until eleven the next morning. The new mother had stood motionless for a few seconds, blinking at the door they'd just slammed in her face, and then giggled when she'd heard Azriel ask his daughters and hers what they wanted to do first - whether to put on nail polish or play "assassins".

That game wasn't exactly the mothers' favourite, but whenever the three brothers got together on the weekends, all the families ended up picking up one of the fake guns that fired rubber bullets and it was war. Countless times one of the fathers or uncles had hit one of the children in the eye before Lucien hit Dara and Elain decided that if they wanted to continue playing that game, they would all have to wear goggles.

Now, at her front door, she waited for her sons to reach the one at Drakon's house, and as soon as the man waved at her and her children blew flying kisses as they entered the older couple's home, she flopped against the door, closing her eyes.

She sighed again, bringing a hand to her face.

Nesta was so tired that she was seriously considering breastfeeding Andra and then going straight to bed. Cassian would be more than capable of picking up Ezra and Cal later and putting the youngest to sleep. He didn't need her that night.

She slipped the keys into the lock and taking a deep breath entered the house, finding it strangely quiet. She immediately thought that her husband must have taken Andra out for some air because there was absolutely no way that the two of them were here and not singing or dancing together or playing with one of the billions of toys she was given by friends and family. She slipped off her shoes and jacket, setting her computer and bag down on the cabinet in the doorway and smiled.

Cassian had been so patient lately. Much more than usual.

The labour had been long and painful, the delivery excruciating, and Nesta had never been more scared than when the doctors had pulled Andra out and the baby hadn't cried. But they were all fine now. Both she and their last child were alive and breathing and Nesta couldn't have asked for more.

She walked into the living room dragging her feet on the floor, wanting only to lie down and sleep until she had to breastfeed. She groaned thinking she couldn't even take off her bra or she'd stain another shirt with milk, but stopped as soon as she could see over the couch back, in front of one of the scenes Nesta would never tire of.

Cassian's massive muscular body, sprawled out on the cushions taking up every inch of free space on the couch, was dressed in black sweatpants and a simple white shirt that left her husband's tattoos and thick arms on full view, just as big and wide as the little pink and purple bundle curled up on his chest.

A smile broke out on Nesta's lips as she brought a hand to her throat.

Andra's legs were folded under her and one of Cassian's hands against her tiny bottom held her in place while the other was resting gracefully on her back. Back that rose and fell slowly, in time with the rhythm of her father's breathing.

Cassian's hands covered the girl's body almost entirely and Nesta couldn't help but think how relaxed and protected Andra must be feeling, her face so calm and her features drooping as her eyelids flickered. She knew very well what it felt like to lie on the man's chest while he rubbed your back to put you to sleep. Nesta had had the best dreams on that chest.

They looked so at peace.

She shifted her gaze to Cassian's face and felt a completely different emotion take over, but no less important, no less intense. She walked over to them, crouching down beside the couch and getting down on her knees right in front of them.

His dark lashes grazed the skin on his cheekbones and for the millionth time she felt jealous of how thick and dusky they were. Elegant and beautiful. She laid her head on the armrest, careful not to touch his shoulder, and reached out a hand towards Cassian, moving his hair away from his face and brushing the crinkled skin between his eyebrows. His forehead relaxed and he let out a sigh in his sleep, pushing his head against that touch involuntarily.

Nesta smiled again, admiring the beauty in those features, the line of his nose, the contour of his eyes, that pronounced jawline, until her gaze ended on the full red lips of the man who was sleeping so blissfully that he hadn't even realized someone had entered the house.

Nesta's hand moved lower, cupping his cheek, and she moved her thumb to graze his lower lip. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel him close. She wanted to taste him.

His lips twitched, as if acknowledging her touch, but he did not wake. She held her breath, feeling the heat pool in her lower stomach, and withdrew her hand slowly. She couldn't think about those things now.

She was tired and Cassian was exhausted, she could tell by how deeply he was sleeping, and he wasn't going to let their first time since Andra's birth be on a night when neither of them would fully appreciate it.

After what had happened with Celia, after she had been pregnant so soon after Nora, they didn't fancy having another child in the immediate future, and Andra's birth had put a fear into her that she had never felt before with her previous children. That was why Cassian had limited himself to using his hands and mouth, why Nesta had done the same.

She shifted her gaze to Andra and her smile doubled. She reached out her hand towards her, but didn't even have time to brush her face when Cassian sprang to his seat, taking the girl with him and bumping into Nesta's arm. He was on his feet in a second as he clutched Andra, who had burst into tears from her sudden awakening, to his chest. The little girl's piercing scream made them both flinch, but they knew she had only been startled by the sudden movement.

When Cassian lowered his gaze to her, who sat with a furrowed brow and her arm still outstretched in the air, he let go of a breath, closing his eyes and moving his hands to settle Andra against him, "God, Nesta," he sighed, laying a hand on Andra's head and beginning to cradle her, then gave an amused dry chuckle, "you scared me."

Nesta pulled herself up in turn, smiling, "Sorry, not my intention."

"Maybe next time don't stand so close to my face," he laughed, his eyes full of sleep but still glowing. Andra screamed again, squirming in his arms, Cassian grimaced. "I thought you were a robber or something."

Nesta shook her head as she moved closer to the two and he took a step in turn, leaning in when they were close enough. He smiled at her, "Hello, sweetheart," he closed his eyes lowering himself more and leaving a light kiss on her lips. Andra moved so much that Nesta felt the little one's head slam against her chest and they broke away chuckling. "I think she's hungry," then he looked to the wall, squinting to read the time on the big clock there. He opened his eyes wide, "We slept for four hours," then looked at her, mouthing a what the fuck.

Nesta snickered, wrapping her hands around her little girl's delicate, slender torso and feeling a sudden surge of affection when finally Andra's clear, huge eyes - full of tears - looked up at her and the crying suddenly stopped. Nesta pushed her nose against the little one's, "Why hello, beautiful creature."

Andra cooed, bringing her small hands to Nesta's cheeks and slapping her gently. She brought her against her side and looked at Cassian, ready to ask him when and how much she'd eaten last time, but the look on his face stopped the words in her throat.

He was smiling weakly at her, the weariness now much clearer in the features around his eyes, his mouth, but he was smiling as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in the world, "This is my favourite time of the day." he whispered softly, bringing a hand to his daughter's head and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Nesta didn't know if she could still blame the hormones for the strong emotion that hit her, but she knew she didn't want to cry and said the first thing that came to her mind, "Just because I take my bra off and you can see my boobs."

Cassian threw his head back and burst out laughing, startling the little one in her arms, but Nesta smiled at her, giving her kisses on the cheeks as she relaxed again.

"You're right," he breathed and one corner of his mouth curled, "and it's because I don't see them enough."

Nesta snorted through her nose, "What are you talking about?"

"It's true, I don't see them enough. I miss them." he pouted, pushing her back to the couch and heading for the door. He looked over her shoulder, "Shall I fetch your nursing pillow?"

"Yes, thank you." nodded Nesta sitting down with her legs crossed, "And you see them at least twice a day!" she shouted so he could hear her.

"Exactly! Not enough." he shouted back, eliciting a laugh from her.

He adjusted Andra so that she was lying on her lap and began to unbutton her blouse just as Cassian walked back into the living room. He smiled mischievously at her as she lifted Andra up and he adjusted the pillow around her hips.

He sat down next to her and stretched his legs out, putting his feet up on the coffee table as Nesta unhooked the cup of her bra and set aside the breast pad. Andra's head slammed so hard against her breast that Nesta grunted in pain and hissed as the baby began to pull almost fiercely.

"God Cass," she murmured, adjusting Andra's position better so she wouldn't choke, "You starved her." she turned to him with a worried look and furrowed brows.

Cassian looked just as concerned, "She didn't wake up and I didn't think she was hungry." he scratched his head as he turned on the television and turned the volume down to minimum so as not to disturb Andra. She was never going to fall asleep after all those hours of napping, but they could always try and by now it had become a habit to watch TV without volume.

"It's okay," she said, grunting at him when Andra clamped her gums around his nipple, "It's just that she's never been this... aggressive."

He shrugged, "Maybe she's teething?"

Nesta blinked, "When you ask these questions I wonder if you're really the father of four other children or if you've just been pretending to be here for the last ten years," she murmured, "She's three months old, honey, she can't be teething."

Cassian looked at her smiling, put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him, "Sorry, Miss baby teeth expert." then he looked at Andra and his gaze softened. He sighed and his chest vibrated against Nesta as he chuckled softly.

"What?"

"It's just that she's so beautiful," he whispered.

Nesta couldn't help herself, "Are you talking about my boob?"

Another hearty laugh, then Cassian turned to her again, looking into her eyes and placing a hand on her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, "You're beautiful too."

"Thank you, you look pretty good too," she murmured to him, shifting her gaze to his lips. Lips that opened in a brilliant smile and closed on hers seconds later.

When they both had to pull away for air, Nesta was panting and Cassian looked more than satisfied to see that her cheeks were flushed. He left a quick kiss on her forehead and then the hand that was on her face slid down and perhaps Cassian didn't realise it, but he brushed her still covered breast with his fingertips and a jolt of excitement went through her entire body.

He placed his hand on hers, which was caressing little Andra's back in circular motions, and stayed there for the rest of the evening, until Nesta's belly began to grumble and he had to get up to cook dinner.

They put Andra to sleep immediately after eating and settled back on the couch, cuddling until sleep claimed them both as Nesta took the place that had been her daughter's until a few hours ago on his chest.

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