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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

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Ateez: Breaking The Bed During Sex (Rated)

Contains NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

Kim Hongjoong:

Ok, maybe you and Hongjoong were going at it a little too rough one day when you had the dorms to yourselves. Honestly it was quite funny to you both, once the shock died down. However you didn't want him to get in trouble, so you both lied about what happened, claiming ignorance. Hongjoong really wanted to say what happened, it was seriously such an ego booster, but he always held back....

Until one day when the other members were teasing him once again, calling him short and weak.

"I'm not weak." Hongjoong said confidently.

"You're the weakest one out of all of us!" Mingi pointed out.

Hongjoong was so done at this point that he ended up blurting out:

"I'm actually so strong that I broke the bed when I was fucking Y/N into the sheets!"

Everyone had a shocked face, some even covering their ears at such a revelation.

"If you don't believe me, ask her! But can any of you brag about something like that?!" Hongjoong continued.

The rest of the member's faces turned red.

"Wait! So you lied about not knowing what happened?" Seonghwa suddenly realized.

"Bitch! You even told our manager that you suspected it was me and Yunho!" San cried out, offended that he was a victim of the whole incident.

Ok, so maybe Hongjoong was definitely going to get scolded, but he does not regret anything.

Park Seonghwa:

As usual, Seonghwa was completely in his Dom persona, holding your legs open as he slammed his cock deep inside you. Only your pants and heavy breathing could be heard.

"F-fuck Seonghwa!" You cried out as you felt your orgasm coming.

"Cum for me baby, I want you to let it all out." He ordered you.

Order that you never got to fulfill since the front legs of the bed snapped out of place, sending you both falling to the front, your head hitting the wall. Dom Seonghwa was switched instantly to Mom Seonghwa.

"Oh my God! Are you all right?!" He exclaimed as he quickly got off you and examined the damage done.

"I'm fine, really." Although it did hurt, you didn't want him to go overboard with this.

"Are you sure? Do you want an ice pack? Do you want to go to the hospital? I'll put some clothes on and take you there right now."

He quickly got up and started pulling out something to wear for him and you. You honestly were just giggling at the situation right now. You both literally just broke the bed cause you were having sex and suddenly Seonghwa is freaking out.

"I think we have bigger problems than my head. How are you going to explain this to the others?" You asked him.

Seonghwa stopped when he realized you were right.

"Shit!" He cursed when he thought about what would happen when the others found out.

They were never going to let him live it down, that was for sure.

Jeong Yunho:

Yunho definitely got carried away and it backfired most inconveniently and at the worst possible moment.

You were currently on top of him, rolling your hips against his as you tried to chase your orgasm. Yunho could definitely tell you were about to explode anytime soon and that's just what he was waiting for, waiting for you to reach your high because he wanted to try something.

With a loud moan, you came all over him, your movements stopping as you were too sensitive to the touch. Yunho knew this, but that didn't stop him from suddenly gripping your hips in place and suddenly thrusting up into you at an animalistic speed.

"Y-Yunho- please! Don't! I-I can't!" You whimpered out from the overstimulation.

"Yes you can, and you will. I know you can take it." He groaned as his hand snaked up your neck.

You never got to find out if you could since suddenly the bed collapsed underneath you both, halting both of your actions.

"Did the bed just...?" Yunho couldn't even finish his sentence.

You nodded. "Yeah.....it really did."

You both sat there for a good minute or two, wondering what to do. That's when you playfully smacked his shoulder.

"This is why you shouldn't try things without telling me first!"

Kang Yeosang:

Yeosang tried to act as normal as possible, knowing it was only a matter of time before-

"Ahhhhhh! My bed is broken!!" Wooyoung screeched out, his arms flailing around the air as he ran to where the other members were.

"Say what?" Seonghwa asked.

"What did you do?" Hongjoong could already feel a headache coming.

"I didn't do anything! Seriously!" Wooyoung exclaimed.

"Then why is your bed broken? What happened?" Hongjoong asked.

"I don't know! That's what I want to know! All I did was come back today from my trip with my family, I sit my butt on my bed and suddenly the headboard falls off!" Wooyoung explained.

Yeosang tried to avoid eye contact with Wooyoung, knowing full well that the reason why the headboard was busted was because he fucked you on his best friend's bed since it was illogical for you two to use his bed given he had the top bunk.

"Yeosang, do you have any idea what might have happened?" Seonghwa asked him.

Putting on his best poker face, he simply shrugged.

"No idea."

Choi San:

You had already cum for the 6th time, but you still had 2 more to go since San wasn't quite finished with punishing you for trying to make him jealous earlier.

"San! Please!" You begged as his pace didn't slow down one bit, even after your 7th orgasm washed over you.

You were met with a slap to your ass, adding to the overstimulation.

"Shut up you little slut! If you're going to act like a whore, you'll get fucked like one." He growled as he kept ramming his cock inside you, rearranging your guts.

Your fingers clutched the sheets, face hidden in the pillow next to you as you tried not to scream so much, but even then your neighbors could prove hear you. They definitely heard though when your bed cracked and collapsed right underneath you. You looked up as San pulled himself off you, inspecting the damage.

"Well it's definitely broken." San said.

You face palmed. "No way? Really?"

You got up to clean yourself but San grabbed your wrist.

"Where are you going? Your punishment isn't over, and I'm adding more for using your sarcastic voice with me." San was already pushing you down on the floor.

"Really Choi San?! You broke my bed and you're still thinking of getting your dick wet?" He was unbelievable.

"I'll buy you a new bed later. One where we can fuck all day and it won't break."

Song Mingi:

Mingi had asked you if he could try being the Dom for once and you agreed, it could be a nice change for once and you did not regret it. He made you lay down and pleasured you for hours before he even lined himself up and started thrusting inside you.

"Oh my God!" You gasped when he put one of your legs around his shoulder, hitting at an angle that would send you cumming in seconds.

"Right there baby?" He smirked when he realized he hit your sweet spot and he began increasing his speed.

You came soon after, your walls clenching tight around him, making him get close to his own orgasm. He pulled out of you to cum all over your stomach and thighs, but as soon as his weight shifted on the bed, a cracking sound was heard and one of the legs broke.

"What just happened?" You asked him.

"Uh..... I think we broke the bed..." Mingi responded.

You both got up to make sure you weren't imagining things. Mingi started freaking out.

"Oh my God! I broke the bed! Hongjoong is going to kill me!" He began exclaiming, already imagining the older member grabbing him by the ear and taking him to his room.

"Sweetie calm down." You tried comforting him.

"I can't calm down! I broke the bed! And-" He paused as he thought about it for a second.

"Oh my god...."

"What?" You asked him.

His face suddenly donned the brightest smile ever.

"I broke the bed and it was cause I was fucking you so hard! How awesome is that?!"

Jung Wooyoung:

It was definitely risky for Wooyoung and you to get naughty while the other members were in the living room watching a movie, but Wooyoung didn't care. Besides, they were watching horror films so the loud noise and their screams would drown out any noises you two made. It's not like they didn't know what you two did anyways.

You two were going like rabbits, enjoying your time together since you hadn't seen each other in a long time. Your moment was ruined by a loud crashing sound that resonated throughout the dorm.

"Jung Wooyoung!?" Seonghwa shouted from the living room.

"What did you do?!" Yeosang called out, worried about any damage done to the room that was also his.

"Shit! They heard!" Wooyoung sighed as he looked at the broken ladder on the bunk bed.

"You have 5 seconds to come out." Hongjoong warned.

Wooyoung told you to stay in the room, while he threw on a pair of sweatpants and went to the living room. He then proceeded to explain what happened.

"You broke my bed?!" Yeosang screeched out.

"Relax! It was only the ladder! Geez! But guys! I broke the bed cause I'm a sex god!" He was honestly so proud of himself.

"I sleep on the top bunk! How am I supposed to get up there now?!" Yeosang asked.

Wooyoung snorted. "I'm sure Yunho or Mingi wouldn't mind giving you a lift."

"That's it! I will murder you! Let me at him! Let me go!" Yeosang thrashed around as Yunho and Mingi held him back from committing murder.

Choi Jongho:

"Why are we here again?" Mingi whined for the 20th time.

"To buy a new bed for Jongho." San answered.

As if it wasn't clear enough given they were looking at the furniture section of a store.

"Seriously Jongho. How did you even break it?" Yunho asked the younger member.

Jongho's mind flashed back at the memory at what happened:

"Jongho!" You called out underneath him.

"Yes love?"

"Pp-please faster! I need m-more." You begged him.

He smirked at your request.

"Are you sure baby? I won't be able to control myself. I might break you."

"Break me Jongho!" You gave him the ok.

Well he definitely didn't break you, but the bed did break. However the others could never find that out.

"I told you! I got angry and took it out on the bed! You know I can't control my strength!" He exclaimed. Technically it wasn't a full lie either.

"Ok ok! Geez calm down! No need to get so defensive about it!" Wooyoung shouted.

"Let's just get his bed and be done with it. I have leftover chicken in the fridge and it's missing me." Yeosang said, annoyed at having being dragged there in the first place.

Jongho smiled to himself when all of them had their backs turned. He actually got away with it and they'll never find out.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut

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shesawriter39049 · 3 years

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|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos!

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there.

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?” Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-” Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink, and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end, your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

#Namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smut #bts au #kpop #kpop smut #kim namjoon x you

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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 272: (Directed by Michael Bay)

Previously on BnHA: The My Child Soldiers Academia arc finally started to live up to its name as Tokoyami became the first (but I assure you not the last) victim of traumatic mental scarring courtesy of Horikoshi’s sick games! So he and Dark Shadow showed up to stop Dabi from murdering Hawks and were all “please don’t kill our mentor.” Dabi was all “AH BUT YOUR MENTOR KILLED SOMEONE ELSE, AND ISN’T THAT JUST LIKE THE HEROES THOUGH, THEIR HANDS ARE SO STAINED WITH BLOOD” and then he tried to set both of them on fire several times in succession. Hawks was all “Tokoyami just run away while he’s in the middle of his five-hour sermon” and so they tried but Dabi followed them! But then Geten was all “ALL RIGHT EVERYONE... CHILL” and fucking froze everything for no discernible reason, and Tokoyami fled the building with an unconscious Hawks in tow as the battle raged on. The chapter then ended with Gigantomachia being all “I smell my master!” and standing up, hahaha oh fuck.

Today on BnHA: Well you guys are not going to believe this, but it turns out that Tomura waking up is actually a very bad thing. A “worst case scenario” if you will! Because, get this, he has a quirk that can destroy anything, which spreads from whatever he touches to fucking everything and everywhere else. Gosh, if only we’d known about this since like 35 chapters ago. If only we’d had a spy among the villains who could have warned us, and three entire months to plan our attack, and literally every single hero in Japan on call to help us when the time came. Anyway so you’re really going to be shocked by this I’m telling you, but it turns out that when a crazy powerful person who wants to destroy everything finally wakes up, he immediately starts destroying everything with his crazy power. So X-Less dies and Crust dies and everyone else runs, and meanwhile the kids, who are on the outskirts of the city finishing up the evacuation, stand there in shock as the plot rampages toward them ready to swallow them whole. The chapter ends with Deku powering up to FORTY-FIVE PERCENT YEAHHHHH, and oh shit. Finally we’re doing this.

I am not even remotely done with all the shit I’m supposed to be finishing up, but fuck it, I need a break and reading the new chapter is by far the funnest thing on my current to-do list, so!

OH SNAPS MY BOY HAS FINALLY OPENED HIS EYES

IT ONLY TOOK HIM... OKAY LOOK I’M NOT GOING TO GO BACK AND COUNT ALL OF THE CHAPTERS, BUT LET’S SAY... FIFTEEN. ...HUNDRED. CHAPTERS TO FINALLY SNAP TO IT AND COME JOIN THE PARTY. BUT IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT! PROBABLY. AHH LET’S JUST READ ON

-- ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohm --

[puts on glasses and unfolds map while poring through a mess of scribbles on post-it notes] -- hold up, if my calculations are correct, I’m pretty sure “somewhere a bit further from the hospital” is, in fact, where a certain THREE TROUBLE-PRONE DISASTERS ARE CURRENTLY HOLED UP. AHHH

can it really be true. are we finally rejoining our protagonist and his buddy cop friends after 97 years. how will everyone react to Deku reacting to Tomura waking up ahhhh

so Burnin’ is yelling at the civilians to let them know if they have any family or friends who need assistance evacuating

god I hate the fact that this is a fucking understatement

they’re not taking any chances after Kamino and Fukuoka huh. fool them once, shame on you. fool them twice, oh shit. but there will not be a third time! no one fucking destroys three cities in the span of six months on their watch, no sirree

(ETA: ...)

lol the kids are trying to get the elderly citizens on a bus to evacuate, but a lady is trying to give them candy and Kacchan and Ochako are of two different minds on whether or not to accept

Kacchan is absolutely right about Ochako’s motivations, but in her defense, who the fuck turns down free chocolate

IIDA!!

FUCKING CHRIST JAPAN IT’S 200 YEARS IN THE FUTURE AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T SWITCHED TO DIGITAL RECORD-KEEPING? WHY IS THIS THE MOST REALISTIC THING IN THE ENTIRE MANGA TO DATE. MY GOOD SIR, IIDA IS LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH, ALL RECORDS AND BUILDINGS ABSOLUTELY CAN AND WILL BE COMPLETELY OBLITERATED IN THE CARNAGE TO COME. I’M SORRY TO BE THE ONE TO INFORM YOU OF THIS, BUT DAMN IT SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY

(ETA: I sure hope these poor bastards had good insurance.)

also. this man here who looks like Beaker from the Muppets, who presumably has the power of Doing Anything Those Wacky Flailing Inflatable Tube Men That You See Outside Of Car Dealerships Can Do. ...yes. that’s it. that’s an intentionally incomplete sentence with a subject but no predicate. I just feel like we should all sit and stare at him for a good thirty more seconds before continuing on with our lives

OH MY GOD

THEY’RE EVACUATING THE PETS TOO AHHHH. EXCUSE ME CERTAIN SOMEONES WHO THINK ALL HEROES ARE “DIRTY.” I SEE YOUR ARGUMENTS AND RAISE YOU THIS ONE SINGLE PANEL. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT. NOW WHAT DABI. AT A LOSS FOR WORDS I SEE. YOU JUST SIT AND PONDER THAT FOR A WHILE

is... this... a space shuttle man

is this literally just a man with a Boeing for a head. FUCKING QUIRKS THOUGH!!!!! ~*~wild~*~

OH MY GOD AND WE’RE BACK

time for some HORCRUX SHENANIGANS!! IS YOUR LIGHTNING BOLT SCAR BURNING DEKU. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED IS BACK AHHHH

so now he’s slightly hunching forward with his hands pressed together and Todoroki is immediately sensing that something is wrong ahhhhh

(ETA from like 5 days later: I had that as “Tokoyami” instead of “Todoroki” for the better part of a solid week you guys. SHOUTO YOU WERE GONE FOR SO LONG I FORGOT YOUR FUCKING NAME whoop.)

here come dat angst. here comes Horikoshi’s hand beckoning the trio closer and welcoming them to the pain parade ahhh. from now on that’s how I’m ending all my sentences btw. it just seems right. ahhh

OH MY LORD OH MY

ladies and gentlemen, YOU WERE SAYING DEKU DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT LATELY? HE’S NOT INTERESTING ENOUGH AS A PROTAGONIST, IS HE? well maybe that’s because Horikoshi has been saving this one juiciest of plot nuggets for a rainy day precisely like this! BRING ON THAT CHOSEN ONE ANGST AHHHHH

anyway so yes it is indeed OFA speaking to him in the form of Lil Bro a.k.a. the first user

lol I’m trying to think of commentary but it’s difficult seeing as I’M ALREADY SCROLLING DOWN TO IMPATIENTLY READ THE NEXT PAGE

lmao the fuck

okay Princess Zelda. can you get any more flowery with those descriptions though. A TRANSCENDENT BEING. A SUPERLATIVE ENTITY. A SUBLIME, PREEMINENT ORGANISM. FREED FROM ITS SHACKLES. UNFETTERED BY ALL EARTHLY LIMITATIONS

OH MY GOD

it absolutely boggles my mind that this guy is somehow still alive. ??! how many chapters and panels has it been now. he’s like the goat in the t-rex pen in fucking Jurassic Park. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET EATEN ALREADY

...

do you... want a blanket. ...?

(ETA: do you ever just. wake up and you’re like “ah shit it’s cold”, and then you destroy an entire city. mm.)

do you all suppose X-Less is fully aware that he’s about to die though? he hasn’t even moved. I imagine that sitting next to Tomura actually is much like sitting next to a giant t-rex. like he has to know there is no getting out of this alive. poor guy

damn Mic isn’t even looking back he’s just running back into the main room where all the rest of them are

wow this fight is still going on

I don’t know why, I just expected it to all magically be over all of a sudden now that we have bigger things to worry about. do you guys remember when we were all worried about the High End Noumus being the biggest threat. hahahahaha

(ETA: moment of silence for ALL OF THE FUCKING HIGH ENDS lmao. that did not go how I expected that plotline to go AT ALL, but at least we got the best fucking battle in the entire manga out of it.)

jesus CHRIST ENOUGH WITH THIS

WE GET IT TOMURA IS DANGEROUS AND SCARY AND EVIL AND AWAKE!!! JUST PLEASE GET TO IT ALREADY GOD I’M BEGGING YOU

FINALLY

goddammit. my reaction to this should have been much more “!!!” and “OH SHIT”, but he dragged it out so much that my initial reaction was one more of relief than horror. maybe it’s because of the way I read the chapters, constantly pausing to do commentary as I go along, but whenever a chapter has a ton of panels of people just staring into the distance awash with dread, it really stands out to me lol. there’s only so much I can write about that kind of thing. ah well at least we’re finally getting to the action

I genuinely can’t tell if Ujiko is frightened that he’s about to be disintegrated by Tomura’s quirk, or excited that Tomura is awake

maybe both lol. well don’t worry you’re not gonna die that easily, much as you would not catch me complaining if you did

thanks Gran

lol where was all this speed throughout the rest of this arc though. “we’re only competent when the plot necessitates it” huh. is that right

oh shit it’s destroying the rest of the lab

those are all of Ujiko’s collected quirks, right? someone please tell me if this is a good or a bad thing. on the one hand if they’re all destroyed it means Tomura can’t get them and Ujiko can’t make any more Noumus. but on the other hand this means they won’t ever be able to give them back to the original users (if any of them are even still alive). and also that’s a lot of evidence that’s being wiped out as well

oh shit they didn’t know about this?!

even after Deika City, you didn’t put two and two together?? even with all of Hawk’s intel?? what the hell did you think happened there?

well this explains why everyone was so la-dee-da-no-rush about capturing him though. well that’s on you guys. next time maybe don’t waste 20 minutes uselessly battling redshirt Noumus while Mirko has to do everything herself

anyway so I feel like people other than X-Less are almost certainly going to die here, and fuck. I’m not ready for any of this

AHH THE KIDS

BIT SLOW ON THE UPTAKE THERE KACCHAN LOL. FOR A MOMENT YOU HAD ME WORRIED THERE WAS SOMEHOW A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THREAT APPROACHING FROM THE OTHER SIDE, BEFORE YOU TURNED AROUND TO LOOK WHERE THE OTHERS WERE LOOKING

ALSO JUST A FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT SHOUTO’S DAD IS IN THAT HOSPITAL, ALONG WITH THEIR TEACHER! HERE. COME. DAT. ANGST

LOOK AT THIS CONSPICUOUSLY INTACT BUILDING AS IT STANDS THERE ALL OMINOUSLY WITH THE NEARBY BIRDS AND CRITTERS FRANTICALLY FLYING AWAY

I want to see it crumble so bad. now this is the kind of foreboding cinematic disaster movie bullshit I can get into

FFFF WHY IS THIS PANEL SO HARD TO SEE

THERE’S TOO MUCH CHAOS AND TOO MANY PEOPLE LOST AMIDST ALL THESE SHATTERING AND FALLING TUBES, BUT I NEED TO MAKE SURE EVERYONE IS SAFE AHHH

...okay so I see Ryuukyuu in the top right, and I think that’s RockLockRock on her back. Thirteen is clearly there in the bottom center, but I don’t know who that is next to them. and then of course Gran and Mic on the left. and a bunch of others spread out in various other places, but... where the hell is Aizawa??

OH THANK GOD

FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI, I KNOW FULL WELL YOU’RE NOT JUST GOING TO KILL OFF THE WORLD’S PREEMINENT DAD STRAIGHT UP OUT OF THE BLUE HERE, AND YET I STILL FELT ANXIETY AT THIS LAST PANEL. HOW DID YOU EVEN

BITCH YOU BETTER LET THE FUCK GO BEFORE I --

!!!

oh my god I gasped in real life. stop making me fear for the lives of main characters!!

he. he --. crust. he. ...

I literally stopped reading and had to stop and cover my mouth with both of my hands I’m

silence. no screaming. no flailing. no freaking out. just silence

shit. rest in peace you old sedimentary bastard. respect to you for saving the father of my children in your last fleeting moments. I still have not the slightest idea how you rose through the ranks to somehow become the sixth fucking highest rated hero (HERO BILLBOARD CHART, IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT. ARE YOU FEELING OKAY), but you sure did go out with style though

also this may be tacky of me to point out during such an emotionally charged moment, but one second Aizawa is wearing his goggles like normal, and the next they’re suddenly pushed up onto his forehead so we can see the anguish in his bloodshot eyes. there was no reason to do that other than angst and we all know it. so yes Shouta you dramatic bitch, I am calling you out. why Horikoshi felt he had to add to your many accumulated traumas is beyond me. you don’t deserve this and I am so, so sorry

OH GOOD I WAS JUST ABOUT TO ASK WHERE THE FUCK ENDEAVOR WAS

seeing as we just went over this with Gran, I will take the high road here and won’t ask why you’re only this fast now and couldn’t have been this useful this ages ago back before Tomura woke up. oh wait does sarcastically saying I won’t bring it up count as bringing it up. well whatever. middle road, then

sob I’m getting flashbacks to the end of Return of the Jedi when they’re all frantically flying out of the Death Star as it explodes

friendly reminder that Ryuukyuu, clearly the fastest one here despite carrying like 20 people, was number 10 in the rankings for some unknown reason. again, r.i.p. Crust you well-meaning geriatric soul

also just a stray thought, I hope it’s clear now why it was so important to give Deku those additional quirks. at a minimum he needs Blackwhip and Float just so he doesn’t instantly die the moment he’s in Tomura’s general vicinity. sob I’ve joked so much about flying quirks and here they are becoming fucking prerequisites now

anyway so Ujiko is mourning the loss of his lab, which again, good riddance mostly. but r.i.p. that evidence though

(ETA: nah the “total loss” part is referring to how the heroes fucked up so soundly and thoroughly. anyway no one would blame Mic if he accidentally dropped Ujiko in the midst of all this chaos, I’m just saying. I guess they need any intel he could still provide now more than ever though.)

OH MY GOD!!

LAUNDRY HERO WASH?! THIS SUDSY BOI CAN ACTUALLY KICK ASS WHAAAAT

oh my god oh my god it’s still spreading??!

fuck fuck fuck at this rate it’ll reach the kids

(ETA: that happened really fast actually.)

-- oh FUCK NO you had better NOT FUCKING TOUCH FUCKING PIXIE BOB, I WILL MAIL MYSELF TO JAPAN PANDEMIC OR NO PANDEMIC. DO YOU NOT SEE THE SIGN THAT SAYS “OFF-LIMITS.” RESPECT THE SIGN

SOB SHE’S SO BADASS BUT IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S STILL DISINTEGRATING FUCCCCCK. FUCK MY LIFE, FUCK EVERYTHING

AHHHHH

I can’t tell if her earthbending was able to stop it or not?? god help us all if it didn’t, I’m not even sure what else could stop it at this point

SHUT UP UJIKO!!

they really did. only to fuck it up completely at the finish line. well, the man most singularly responsible for it is dead now, again r.i.p. Crust you useless old legend

lmao despite myself

“by a miracle, or maybe through sheer will” even he acknowledges that Tomura waking up was basically complete bullshit. yes blah blah yadda yadda got zapped by some exposed wires explanation science. because we all know that getting electrocuted will fix you right up when your heart has stopped and you have completely flatlined. you can definitely trust Horikoshi on this and there’s absolutely no need to google how defibrillators actually work

also is he somehow wearing a cape now. again by a miracle or maybe through sheer will

YESSSSSSS

(ETA: one has to wonder what Ujiko’s plan was, assuming this scheme had actually played out. were they just banking on Tomura not waking up cranky and disoriented and wanting to test out his power. his quirk doesn’t exactly distinguish friend from foe here I’m just saying.)

the part of me that goes all “ooh ahh” when all the buildings explode in Independence Day is singing inside. but never fear, the rest of me is appropriately horrified though. what was that Burnin’ was saying about the city becoming a large-scale battle zone? sob

also this page sure serves as a nice refresher for exactly why Tomura Waking Up Was Bad, which was inexplicably a topic of some debate in recent weeks. yes in spite of everything the villains are still the bad guys who’d have thought. almost as if the purpose of humanizing a character is to show that they’re human, not that they’re right

WHAT’S THIS NOW???

WELL I’LL BE. IT’S BEEN AN EVENTFUL THREE MONTHS, APPARENTLY!??

HOOAHHHHHHHH

IT’S A BIRD IT’S A PLANE IT’S A BADASS OH SHIIIIITTTTTT

finally finally finally!!!!!!

THE SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN, REPEAT, THE SHIT HAS HIT THE PROVERBIAL FAN. THE PLOT IS FINALLY HAPPENING, REPEAT, THE PLOT IS FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENING AHHHHHH

and there is no one coming to save them this time. no one to arrive at the last second and say “it’s all right now because I am here.” they have to save themselves. they have to save everyone. the training wheels are finally coming off. the safety net has been removed. after 272 chapters, the story has finally reached a point where these kids, these children, who in spite of all they’ve been through have been protected and shielded from the worst of it up till now, will finally have to be the ones to save the day all on their own

and they are not ready. but also maybe they kind of are??! but they definitely are not. and oh god oh god oh god, FINALLY WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS. TIME TO FIX THE MESS THOSE SILLY GROWN-UPS MADE, CHILDREN. YOU GOT THIS

#bnha 272 #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #ujiko daruma #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #if the next few chapters don't feature some kind of avengers-style epic team up pose I will sue #what has this all even been building up to if not that #remember that the kids are not allowed to die though horikoshi #remember what we agreed upon #you remember right #right #horikoshi???

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

But Once a Year (2/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9.1K which is also more than I remember writing. Which should probably be the subheadline of my life. AN: Guys! All of you! Collectively! Separately! Thank you so much for your genuinely incredible response to this story that took on a life of its own. It’s very nice! You’re all very nice! More exclamation points! This time around we’ve got; a very discombobulated timeline, bedtime stories, peak!dad David, peak!dad Killian and f e e l i n g s.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || Or you can start from the start

————

“How did you figure it out?” He lifts his eyebrow. Only one, and exactly the same way he does in whatever part of time the real Killian Jones is lingering in, but the thought of this Killian Jones not being entirely real makes Emma’s stomach knot. Several times over. She can’t stop staring at his eyebrow. It’s off-putting. And the complete opposite of that. “Out?” Killian echoes. “Not when?” “No, no I figured you knew pretty much from the get, but—” Emma shrugs. Tries very hard not to fall off the kitchen counter. Which might actually be made of granite.

God, maybe they’re legitimately rich.

She can’t imagine what the mortgage on a house like this is.

She can’t imagine there are actually mortgages in Storybrooke.

“Were you thinking about going to get your sword? Because it seems shitty to challenge an unarmed person to a fight.” The eyebrow gets higher. Arch'ier. Pointier, even. “As you’ve already pointed out today, I am a pirate. And that’s not really an answer to my question.” “Or mine,” Emma challenges. “Are you not a pirate anymore, then?” “You know you’d make a rather atrocious spy, darling.” Sneering is decidedly juvenile and the only thing Emma is capable of doing in the moment. “You are dancing around any answer and—” “—Well, if you’re a time traveling, abysmal spy then it seems wrong to provide you with any more information than what you’ve already gleaned from your day here, doesn’t it?”

She deflates.

Shoulders sag and exhaustion creeps up the wholly unnatural and very uncomfortable curve of Emma’s spine, fear tickling the back of her mind because Killian hasn’t actually made a single move towards the basement, but she’s only passably sure of where the basement is and the specific sort of glint in his eyes makes her even more confident that he wouldn’t mind brandishing his sword at her.

Literally in this instance.

“I’m not sure it’s time travel,” she mumbles, staring at a floor that is questionably clean if it does in fact belong to her. Maybe Killian cleans. “Fascinating.” “I’m not the bad guy here.” “Because I am?”

Her shoulders can’t sink any lower. They try all the same, shamed by the hitch in his breath and the tilt of his head, angled to make his hair drift across his brows and eyes that are as distracting as ever and far too easy to get swept up in and—

Emma swallows.

Exhales. She doesn’t remember when she decided to hold her breath.

“I don’t know,” she admits softly, barely able to move her lips and no one remembered to turn the Christmas tree off. Lights reflect off the ridiculous number of windows in the wall, painting streaks of color on paint that isn’t blue and shouldn’t remind anyone of a ball gown Emma knows she hasn’t worn yet, but it’s pretty all the same and she wonders why she wound up here. At this point. This moment.

Killian might not be breathing either.

“What do you know, then?”

Emma bites her lip. Hard. “That one second I was somewhere else, and then I was—” Shaking her head does not help what is undoubtedly a migraine blooming behind her left eye, but she hasn’t fallen off the counter yet and she imagines victories are going to be few and far between, so it seems fair to cling to them as they pass by. Six of her knuckles crack when she grips the kitchen counter. “Waking up, and you were telling me we had to go get paint, and people were bowing to me.” “They don’t do that where you’re from.” “Not a question.” “No,” Killian agrees, which is a very strange way of doing that, “more like a documented point. You haven’t tried to attack anyone yet, though. So I suppose that’s at least one marker on the positive column.” “I’m not going to attack anyone!” Eyes flashing at the crack in Emma’s voice, Killian’s neck all but snaps as he glances over his shoulder. Towards a staircase, and she hasn’t spent too much time upstairs yet, but those same stairs are as empty as they were sixteen seconds earlier and the force of Killian’s exhale ruffles the ends of his hair.

“If you wouldn’t mind being just a touch quieter,” he all but growls at her, spinning back around with far more grace than Emma thinks is entirely fair, “I’d really appreciate it. Takes her forever to fall asleep.” “Hope, you mean? Don’t I, well—don’t we or…” “I’d suggest you stop talking.”

“And you’re still avoiding my questions,” Emma accuses through clenched teeth. That only hurts her jaw. And the rest of her, really. She’s so tired, she can’t believe she’s still forming coherent sentences. Counting that as another marker in the positive column is probably a dick move.

And the standoff that ensues over the next twenty-seven and two-thirds seconds is something in the realm of ridiculous. Clenching her jaw tight enough to crush a variety of diamonds, Emma resolutely refuses to blink, and Killian’s an ass, apparently, so he simply stares right back, while his shoulders heave on every inhale.

She doesn’t know what to say. Has no idea what string of words will convince this relative stranger, who still feels like someone who could potentially be hers in an overwhelming sort of way, that she’s not a threat and wouldn’t do anything to hurt that kid upstairs. Not when that kid did her own bit of staring at Emma all evening, like she was the sun and the moon, and a variety of constellations and—

Killian drags a hand over his face. Leaves red streaks in his wake, twisting the skin on his cheeks and the stubble there doesn’t move because it can’t, but Emma’s admittedly starting to teeter again. In more ways than one, really.

The crinkles around his eyes are deeper. As if he’s used to laughing and smiling, and Hope had clung to him on their walk home.

There’s that word again.

Doing something silly to Emma’s heart.

“I know you’re not going to attack anyone,” he sighs, “although I don’t really know if you’re in a position to demand I tell you anything, either.”

“What if we call it a request?” His lips twitch, fighting off the smile Emma can see tugging at his mouth and it’s definitely wrong to find any confidence in that. Charming a guy who’s already married and procreating with a different version of her shouldn’t be regarded as another victory.

She’s going to do it anyway.

“Tell me who you are, then.” “I’m—” Grunting hurts Emma’s throat, both of her elbows threatening to damage her ribs when she flails her hands. “I’m me. Just—” “—Not mine?” “Oh, that’s decidedly possessive.” Humming, Killian’s nod is barely that. More like a quick jerk of his chin and swipe of his tongue across the front of his teeth. She’s got to stop staring at his mouth. “Aye, it might be. I am having some difficulty wrapping my head around this, though. So you’ll have to forgive me.” Emma scoffs. Nearly laughs, really — which is as surprising as it is nice, and nothing about this can be nice. On principle. Her body doesn’t seem to care, and her heart certainly cares even less, and it’s still a struggle to rationalize this version of Killian with the one she left, but there are far more similarities than her brain is able to process quite yet and that same dark and distant part is very quick to point out she’d like to.

No matter where she might be sitting.

If she’d let herself.

“You can feel my magic?”

Killian nods. “Usually.” “What does that mean? It doesn’t always work?” “I—” Gritting his teeth only shows off how frustratingly straight there are, and at some point she’s going to ask about that. Pirates don’t get braces, after all. “I’d rather not disrupt all of time by telling you things you don’t already know.” “I don’t know anything,” Emma argues, trying very hard not to scream the words. And only sort of succeeding.

“Did you fall into a portal?” “Are you fucking with me?” Killian glares at her again. “I’d advise very strongly that you answer the question, Swan.”

“Or what? You’ll legitimately go get your basement sword? Why do you keep your sword in the basement, anyway? Aren’t there—I mean, a monster a week in Storybrooke, right?” His goddamn fucking tongue is going to be the death of her. Sooner or later, Emma is positive. Shifting and poking at the side of his cheek, and she can hear the gears again, trying to place the few clues she’s given him with a life he’s already lived and it is absurd that she even thought the word clues.

“Not in quite some time,” he admits, and Emma’s mind leaps. Back to conversations and knights and realm-borders. She needs a map. Or Regina, God help her. “That’s not the point, though. It’s—” Another head shake and hair movement, and pinching the bridge of his nose only makes it ten-thousand times easier to see the ring on his finger.

There are a lot of Christmas lights in this house.

“You’re not someone else,” Killian finishes softly.

“Disappointing, I know.” His head moves so quickly it’s hardly more than a semi-dark blur of hair and slightly pained eyes. Both of which make Emma very glad for her spot on the counter. If she had been standing, she would have fallen over. In a rather undignified heap.

“No,” Killian exhales as the magnets make a glorious return. He crowds into her space before she’s entirely ready for it. Although that also suggests Emma would ever be ready for the way his face has twisted and how ridiculously warm he continues to be, the hand that’s already resting on her knee threatening to burn straight through her jeans. “Strange,” he adds, clenching his fingers when Emma flinches, “and possibly a little terrifying, since—” “—Your Emma has disappeared entirely.” He grins. It’s disarming, and inching closer to the kind of flirting they’d been dancing around before and Emma’s got to get off this dancing metaphor kick. She’s not a good dancer, anyway. “No portal, right?” “No portal,” she confirms. “And I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t a very lucid dream, so.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

She realizes that about halfway through the sentence. Any hint of camaraderie or déjà vu-based flirting disappears from Killian’s face and immediately shifts into the same brand of pain that came when she called him Hook.

Biting her lip is really Emma’s only option.

“You don’t think this is real,” he whispers, another statement she doesn’t feel the need to point out. Shrugging, Emma’s vocal chords fail her again, and the step Killian takes away from her resembles a rather large chasm.

Grand Canyon-esque.

“We’re back to things I don’t know,” Emma says, “but um—do we have other kids? Aside from Hope, I mean? I—” Heat rises in her cheeks, the weight of the compliment threatening to burst out of her both foreign and necessary and Killian doesn’t do anything. Well, he lifts his eyebrows again, but that’s something like second nature to him and Emma refuses to count it and his fingers find the back of his hair.

Huh.

“Henry,” he replies.

“And you’re counting Henry? As—” Her tongue is really going to become a problem, if it’s going to remain this size in her mouth. “As your kid too?”

Strictly speaking, Emma’s not sure she actually wants an answer. Can only imagine what her emotions will do if she hears the confirmation that’s quite obviously pressing behind the seams of Killian’s mouth, but that confirmation might also prove several thousand things that have been at war in her for far longer than she’d ever be willing to admit, and he nods once.

“In all the ways that matter,” Killian says. “And Neal is…” Shaking his head, all Emma gets is another smirk as soon as she huffs out her frustration, but the frustration is also kind of lacking when it feels like her whole body is running on overdrive and there’s no way he could fake the emotion behind those words. Even in a dream-like state. She’s not creative enough to come up with that particular voice inflection.

“How’d you know?” she presses. “Honestly?” “Aside from your rather startling inability to act like yourself?” “Yeah. Aside from that.”

Stairs creak behind them, a not-quite ominous warning that this conversation has lasted longer than it should and there’s a kid of indeterminate age demanding to be put back to bed just out of sight. Emma should figure out how old her kid is.

Hopefully that won’t ruin the space-time continuum, either.

“You’ve got this lovely habit of calling me babe,” Killian drawls, leaning close enough that Emma swears she can smell him. Wishful thinking, maybe. “And I can’t remember the last time you called me Hook.”

He flashes her another grin — reminiscent of a man who is not this one, and then he’s gone, scooping up the kid and muttering promises against her hair, and Emma never knows how long she spends sitting on the kitchen counter.

She does creep, eventually.

Curiosity gets the better of Emma the longer she sits there, waiting without much hope for Killian to return. He’s not going to. She knows that. There’s only so many times he can come back, and this is a totally different thing than it was before, but it's also a perfect segue to the other reason she hopes off the counter. Her overall discomfort. Literally, and metaphorically. Marble, it seems, is a very fancy stone and good for the kitchen counters some alt-version of her eventually owns, but it also starts to dig into the back of her knees and those knees are bent kind of weird and in the grand scheme of where she wants to look again, inching up the stairs to peer through the barely closed door of Hope’s room is a much more appealing prospect than a basement that apparently houses weapons.

So, Emma doesn’t spend too long thinking of the pros and cons, or how she should really be creeping towards the room of someone who might understand magic and why she’s here. Instead, she winces slightly on the creaky step halfway up the staircase and does her best to stay in the shadows, but these shadows aren’t quite as terrifying as they were in the realm she’s only just recently teleported from and that probably doesn’t mean a whole lot.

He’s reading her a story.

Captain Hook, terror of several storybook seas and probably a few Emma isn’t aware of, just to drive home the confusion point, sits propped up against a mess of pillows with his sock-covered feet stretched out in front of him, and curls pushed up against his side, a book balanced precariously on one thigh and she really would make the world’s worst spy. She hadn’t noticed the empty brace at the end of his arm.

That’s never happened before.

Honestly, she wasn’t even entirely sure it was possible, which is total asshole territory and maybe she’ll just collapse. Right here in the hallway. The carpet looks almost plush, so it might not be the worst move.

And trying to memorize the look of it only feels like a half-dick'ish move, if only because the lack of a hook does sort of confirm the overall safety of this place, and Emma figures that outweighs whatever scene she’s interrupting. Or trying not to, as it were.

Knotted scars line his skin, some of them looking older than others and that makes a few more of Emma’s internal organs flip. Something that feels a bit like anger rises in the back of her throat, an unexpected emotion that isn’t really directed at anyone except the people who caused those scars and that pain and he looks comfortable.

Now, at least.

Even slouched as he is against pillow cases that are far too frilly and remind Emma far too much of her mother. She keeps documenting. Lets her eyes trace over every inch of Killian — the way his fingers fluttering mindlessly against Hope’s back, brushing away strands of hair with the kind of ease that makes it clear this is a regular occurrence. His shoulders aren’t as taut as they were in the kitchen, but his head lolls towards the side more than once as fatigue starts to color his gaze.

The story has princesses in it. Well, one princess. On a rather expansive adventure, if Emma’s actually keeping up with the plot. Dropped into a place she’s unfamiliar with, the princess in question naturally has a dashing love interest — although his name is Charles, so...maybe not all that dashing — and they get into several more adventures. Which include, but apparently are not limited to; taverns, a ridiculous amount of flirting, interactions with pirates, kissing as a distraction, the last of which endlessly entertains Hope, and the overall force of the little girl’s laugh makes Emma’s breath hitch, but then there’s more to the story and of course there’s a ball. More royalty, too. Obstacles are faced, only to be immediately overcome and Emma’s smile happens without any thought to the overall inappropriate nature of it.

“And,” Killian says, shaking his head until his nose grazes Hope’s hair, “the exceptionally dashing prince took on the guards single-handedly, telling the princess to go and get the treasure they’d been looking for. While—” “—’Feating all of them, right?” Hope exclaims. As much as it’s possible to exclaim while also sounding half asleep.

“In dramatic fashion. There was quite a lot of spinning involved. Made his jacket look all the more impressive. Fluttering tails and whatnot.”

Eyes flicker towards Emma’s garbage hiding spot, and she’s still not breathing correctly, so the odds aren’t very good he heard her, but she’s wondered more than once if he doesn’t just have a sixth sense when it comes to her and possibly them, and she pulls her lips behind her teeth.

“What happened after that?”

Most of Hope’s question comes out as a singular word, Killian’s soft laugh both indulgent and decidedly parental and he kisses her once before muttering, “Nuh uh, you’ve already gotten more story than you should, and you’ve got to get some rest.” “But I—”

Shaking his head once is all it takes for silence to descend on the room, although it does come with a slight pout and that’s—weird, it’s weird. Watching her own facial expressions reflect back to her from a kid she didn’t know existed a few hours earlier is more than enough to send Emma reeling. Wobbly knees shake underneath her, retreating in just enough time to not look totally suspicious as Killian mumbles something else and closes the door behind him, and she might have been right about the eye thing.

They practically fly towards her.

And the wall that was far closer than Emma anticipated. Hitting her head on it hurts more than it usually would, she imagines.

“Truly,” he says, “an absolutely Gods awful spy.” “Was that supposed to be plural? On the Gods, I mean?” Tilting his head is the only response Emma gets, and she can’t blame him for that. For anything, really. “Does that happen a lot? The, uh—the stories.”

Silence.

Relatively speaking. There’s the distinct sound of disgruntled kid on the other side of the other side of the door, what Emma figures are four flailing limbs as it appears Hope is determined to beat her half a dozen pillows into submission.

Little sea monster makes a bit more sense now.

“I do that too.”

Fatigue disappears. To make room for the invisible two-by-four that settles between Killian’s shoulder blades, shifting them until his spine is ramrod straight and he’s staring at Emma like that was the most obvious statement in the history of the world.

“I’m well aware,” he says, but his voice drops, gruffer than it’s been all day. She’s going to bite both her lips in half.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s—makes sense, I guess. I, um—” No one actually told her to take her boots off, but Emma might have assumed, and the carpet does feel soft. Through her socks, at least. While she tries to dig a hole into the ground with her toe. So she can fall into it. “Seemed like a popular story.” “Aye, it is. Big fan of sword fights.”

“Ah, well, when they’re full of dashing princes who wouldn’t be?”

It’s another thoughtless sentence. One that makes Killian’s tongue shift and then his mouth shift and Emma only stares at that for a few seconds before her eyes drop to his arm and his wrist and—

He twists his arm. Behind his back.

Her inability to dig a hole with her foot is genuinely disappointing.

“A question for the ages,” he says. “What are the other ones, then?” “Excuse me?” “I cannot keep telling you how badly you mask your expressions. It seems redundant. So while I also can’t imagine getting too much information will be good, you’ve obviously got questions. As do I, if we’re being honest.” “Are we being honest?”

The lack of sword belt — or actual pants — makes it all the more absurd when he leans forward, thumb hooking into the top of the sleepwear he’s got on, and Emma’s fairly proud of her ability to not linger on that particular thing. Less so in her ability to temper the butterflies in her stomach as soon as Killian leans forward.

Directly into her space.

He must radiate heat.

“I’ve never been anything except entirely honest with you, love,” Killian says, and there’s no way to doubt those words or that voice and Emma hasn’t. Ever, actually.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Eventually you really do believe it.” Blood hits her tongue — sharp and absolutely disgusting, threatening to make her retch in the middle of the hallway. Only marginally better than her hole idea. By some miracle, sent from an apparently merciful God, Emma manages to take a deep breath, jutting her chin out and meeting Killian’s almost cautious gaze with a determination of her own.

The kind that sends magic shooting down her arms, and directly into the tips of her fingers. His eyes widen.

“That’s never been the problem. It’s—” They’ve got to stop cutting themselves off. Sentences that hang without end will torment Emma for the foreseeable future, but the muscles in her neck are going to seize up if she doesn’t twist them, and Killian’s fingers tense at his side when her hair moves. Like he wants to brush it away from her face. “Where’d the tree come from?” “Anton.”

“No.” “Swan, we just proclaimed honesty and now you’re—” “—Don’t know if it was a proclamation,” Emma grumbles, but Doc did call her your highness before so maybe she wields that kind of power now. Killian’s lips tilt up.

Finding something else to stare at should be number one on the list of things Emma needs to be doing. Desperately.

“Aye, that usually requires your mother’s seal anyway.”

“My mom? Why would...isn’t Regina mayor of this town?”

Exhaling through his teeth is oddly attractive. “Not as such, no.” “Huh.” “That’s about the right reaction. But to get back to your original question—” Emma sticks her tongue out, Killian’s laugh soaring out of him. Directly into her. It feels that way, at least. Warmth blooms between her ribs, another pulse of magic she resolutely ignores in favor of watching his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle and it would be very easy. All of it. Is, currently. If she’s being honest with herself.

That’s a problem.

“You’re a picture of maturity,” Killian murmurs.

“Well, depending on who you ask, I either got tugged through time, or I’m being tormented in my dreams and—what?” His eyes have gone very thin. “Tormented, is it?” “That was a shitty choice of words.” Humming, Killian’s eyes move anywhere but Emma’s face, and the regret in her gut is like a black hole and dying star and several other space-based puns she does not understand at all. All she knows is what a mess this is becoming, and she’s been a mess for as long as she can remember so that’s all the excuse she needs, hands moving on a mix of want and instinct that she’ll let herself over analyze later.

He doesn’t flinch.

For another moment, it feels like he’s going to do something drastic. Parting his lips, Emma hears his exhale, the quick flick of his tongue making her toes curl and her fingers tighten, and she wants to run. That’s her schtick. She can’t. She’s rooted to the spot and this carpet, and there’s nowhere to go really.

Getting back to Neverland already seems impossible.

“He’s very happy here,” Killian says, and it takes her a second to realize they’re talking about a giant again. “Has been for years. Grows all sorts of stuff, and you didn’t see the Christmas tree your parents have, but it’s ridiculously massive. Apparently there’s some sort of giant-type gene that helps with that.”

“Well, yeah of course.”

Whatever sound he makes isn’t the laugh Emma selfishly wants it to be, but the air that finds her cheek is warm and his left arm isn’t behind his back anymore. “You can take the bed.”

“What?” “We do have a bed, love.” “Yeah, but—” “—Very gallant of me, I know,” Killian quips, stepping away from Emma and the moment and she can’t believe the moment included talk of a giant growing Christmas trees. Somehow that’s almost comforting. “But it’ll be fine, and well if you’re going to talk to Regina tomorrow—” “—You think I should talk to Regina?” “Don’t you?” Nodding hurts. Standing hurts. The whole thing’s ridiculously melodramatic. “Probably,” Emma admits. “Um, but...maybe on my own?”

She’ll never admit to wanting an objection — this isn’t her life, or her Killian, but it also feels wrong to claim any Killian, and this constant flipping between emotions is going to snap her skull in half. “Whatever you think is best,” he says. “Two doors down on the left.”

“Ok, thanks.”

Nodding again, Killian gives her a barely-there smile before moving back towards the stairs he only sort of rushes down. That one step creaks again.

Sleeping doesn’t happen.

Emma didn’t think it would, but it’s disappointing and frustrating all the same. Her muscles ache, practically begging her for unconsciousness, but every time she closes her eyes all she can see is Killian’s face and the space between them and she’s got to get back to Neverland.

Soon.

Emma’s got to fix this.

No one’s at Regina’s house.

Waiting until everyone left her own house is something of a massive copout, and using that particular possessive makes Emma feel like a liar, but she couldn't bring herself to get off the bed until the front door slammed shut and she wasted quite a lot of time sitting on the mattress.

Also very comfortable, despite the distinct lack of sleep it witnessed.

So, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when no one answers Emma’s rather pointed knocks. Or the few kicks she levels at Regina’s front door, just to be sure. All that does is make the wreath hanging out front wobble precariously. “God, fucking—” Snowflakes land on Emma’s face when she tilts her head up, as if the gods she’s challenging are responding. She’s still a little caught on the polytheistic. “Alright, alright, where would she go?”

“Emma?” Spinning, she doesn’t wobble at all — a testament to Regina’s salting regiment for her front steps, and the blonde twenty-something with impressively thick glasses who called her name far too easily grins far too quickly. “What are you doing out here?”

There’s no hint of confusion to her question. At least not in regards to who Emma is. She’s obviously surprised to find her standing there, though, and nothing about her is familiar.

“I’m looking for Regina. Do you know where she might be?”

“Yeah, of course. She went into the office early this morning, said she had to deal with the knights situation and magic acting up and—” “—Magic is acting up?”

“Didn’t Uncle David tell you?”

“No,” Emma shakes her head, already moving because there are only so many offices in this town and it’s got to be the same one. It isn’t until she makes it back to Main Street that her mind catches up with titles, but then the woman is jogging up the stairs of town hall and swinging open doors and Emma’s jaw drops.

At the “Regina Mills, Queen of the Combined Realms” etched in glass in front of her.

“You coming?” this nameless person asks, jerking her head towards the office and at least the wallpaper is the same. Emma gives a jerky nod, willing herself to step forward, but it’s shaky going at best and Regina is on the phone.

The buzzing in her ears makes it difficult to hear the conversation, but Emma picks up the gist. Magic, and knights and the sound of her dad’s vaguely frantic tone, while Regina sighs at regular intervals, rolling her eyes occasionally as well.

“Aunt Gina,” the woman hisses, slumping into the closest chair. Sliding a small handful of bills across her desk, Regina widens her eyes meaningfully, not bothering to cover the receiver before she mutters—

“Only what was on the list, ok? Henry’s stuff is already taken care of, don’t let Doc try and swindle you.”

She gives a crisp salute, Emma’s mind practically tripping over itself because that’s like a slap to her entire being and the sanity she’s only just clinging to at this point. “I’ll sic Killian on him, if he even tries,” she promises, leaning across the desk to kiss Regina’s cheek before breezing out of the office with a quick “see you later, Emma.”

Emma doesn’t move.

And Regina hangs up on David.

“Well,” she says, somehow dragging the word out until it sounds like those royal decrees Killian was talking about, “here you are, then.” “Should practice your surprised face.”

Gasping as dramatically as possible, Regina widens her eyes and jerks back, making her chair squeak on its wheels. Her hand flies to her chest, and the necklace that hangs over her shirt. It looks a bit like an arrow. “How was that?” “My dad called you.” “Probably two seconds after you left the farm. So,” she props her chin on her palm, “time travel, is it? You fall in another portal?”

Blinking as quickly as she is makes it difficult for Emma to stumble into the chair only recently vacated by that girl, but she manages somehow. And doesn’t twist anything in the process. Victories, she’s claiming all of them. “How many time-altering portals are there?” “Only one that I’m aware of, but you also didn’t answer my question and I don’t think you can alter something that hasn’t happened for you yet.” “Because this is the future.”

“Frankly?” “You’re going to do it either way,” Emma grumbles, Regina’s sneer not quite as challenging as she expects it to be.

“Nothing is ever set in stone, not really. Which is why you can appear here. We're...a possibility for you at this point. So, no—I’m not sure you can destroy yourself with knowing. With staying, for sure, but—” “—Wait, what?”

Regina’s fingers flutter against her cheek. “When did you come from?

“Not here.” “Obviously.”

Slumping further into the chair, Emma’s knees nearly slam into her chest. It’s definitely an arrow around Regina’s neck. “Neverland,” she says, “we’d just left the Echo Caves and you’d gone off with Gold somewhere.” “Rumor has it you met Ariel.” “Is that seriously who that was?” Regina nods. Emma exhales. Loudly. “Ok, ok, well—” Recounting the rest isn’t as hard as she expects it to be, details flowing out of Emma like some other water joke she’s not willing to make and Regina doesn’t interrupt. Occasionally her hand drifts back towards the necklace, but Emma chooses to ignore that as well and her mouth is only sort of dry by the time she’s done.

And then Regina purses her lips.

Which speaks volumes, without actually saying words. She says words too. “A giant plant. That crawled out of the ground and—” “—Ok, I never once said it was giant, just that it exploded out of the ground.” “It’s not much better.” “Killian can feel my magic here.” “Yuh huh.”

Lifting both her hands in what Emma can only hope is obvious frustration and soon-to-be-resolved confusion, Regina doesn’t look all that impressed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Emma demands. “Is that a normal thing? I—as far as I know he can’t in Neverland.” “Well, normal is in the eye of the beholder, really, but have you ever actually asked the captain if he can feel your magic?” “Why would I—did you just call him captain? Are you and Killian friends now?” Clicking her tongue, Regina makes a noise that’s neither confirmation nor objection. “I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t—none of this is real.” “Ah, that’s actually a little rude.” “How did this happen, then?” Another noise. More guttural that time, and Emma hopes it hurts the inside of Regina’s throat. She’s feeling a little vindictive. No one’s explained the Unified Realms concept to her yet, that’s why. “I’ve got several working theories, some people who would know far more about Neverland’s vegetation and what its capable of than I would, and the deep-burning desire to know whether or not you told Killian about the plant.”

The gods are clearly feeling particularly charitable to Emma right now. All things considered, she feels like she deserves that.

And she doesn’t fall out of the chair.

“Do you think he remembers this? If I disappeared in Neverland, but he still married me here...God, that’s weird to say.” “Is it, though?’ Regina challenges, scrunching her nose like this is a conversation they can have.

“Why are you also being so goddamn weird?” “Time travels a funny thing. Lots of twists and turns, and potential pitfalls. And I’m not being weird, this is who I am now.” “Huh.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time,” Regina advises. “But I do think you’re right, you need to leave this part of the timeline. It’ll fall apart otherwise.” “You say so calmly.” “I’m almost very confident in your abilities.” “Almost,” Emma echoes, fully prepared for the snark-filled grin that gets her. Flames flicker between Regina’s fluttering fingers, not the first time that’s happened, but it usually only happens in times of particularly high stress and for as even-keeled as the so-called queen is acting, Emma knows at least part of it is a facade. “What happened with the knights? Also, shouldn’t knights from Camelot be under Arthur’s rule?” “That’s a whole other story. One your husband could recount much better than me.” “He’s not my husband.” “Not yet, I suppose.” Grimacing makes it harder to pull a breath in, but Emma’s butterflies make a triumphant return and the coffee maker was still on when she got downstairs. That might not be the coincidence she wants it to be. “The knights,” Emma demands, “what’s their deal?” “Nefarious, it seems. Which isn’t usually how they operate, and is wholly against the law.” “Of your kingdom?” Maybe Regina and Killian are friends. She’s much better at arching her eyebrow now. “Something like that. Anyway, the knights are here, without the proper paperwork, because they claim magic has been acting strangely in Camelot. And they’ve tracked it to our forest. What that magic is doing that’s so strange appears to be some sort of state secret, but Snow’s got a bird on it, so maybe we’ll find out eventually.” “That keeps happening.” “The fleeting nature of a bird’s attention span?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Is she not Mary Margaret, anymore?”

The flames disappear, Regina sitting up a little straighter like they’ve finally delved into the serious part of this conversation, and whatever’s churning in Emma’s gut is a bit like regret. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” “How am I thinking about it, then?” “As someone who still hasn’t found Henry in Neverland yet.” “Sounds like we do.” “Not something you ever should have doubted.” “I don’t,” Emma says, only kind of a lie because she still can’t really shake her worry and her fear has always been such a strong part of her; the concept of letting that go is as terrifying as anything else. The coffee had been good that morning. “Why this spot? I mean—if I was going to get tugged to any point in my timeline, Christmas in Storybrooke seems a little out of left field, don’t you think?”

Regina considers that for a moment, drumming her still-flameless fingers on her vaguely imposing desk. “Honestly? Seems like a test.” “Of what?” “You, obviously.” “Speaking English, Your Highness.” “Majesty,” Regina corrects, sliding away from the desk so she can stand up and rest her palms on it and Emma’s eyes nearly roll into the back of her head. “And you’re being obtuse on purpose. I understand, but it’s—well, it’s only going to get more annoying, for both of us. The point is, games were part of Neverland. Tricks and sleight of hand, making you believe something that wasn’t there because that belief fueled the place. Belief’s even stronger for you, Emma. Because of what you are, and what you’ve done. Or will do, I guess.” “No pressure.” “Some, but—you’re distracting me. That’s still an unconfirmed theory.” “What is the point, then?” “The point,” Regina repeats archly, “is that pulling you out of Neverland, away from a place that made you feel like the Lost Girl you believe you are, turns this into something of a Utopia. Home, and safety. When’s the last time you celebrated Christmas?” “Never?” “See, everything you’ve ever wanted all tied up and—” “—I don’t want to be married to Hook.”

Disbelief colors every inch of Regina’s face, the sound of her laugh far more evil than she’s been all morning. “You’re an awful liar, Emma Swan. No matter what you do, and all you’ve ever been able to do is make eyes at the pirate.” “I don’t make eyes.” “Don’t worry, he does too. Even now, which is romantic if you like that sort of thing.” “The point, Regina.”

She grins. “You’re being offered a choice. Here, or there. Past or possible future. It’s a dangerous option, Emma, and one you can’t give into, no matter how much you might want.”

Finding her dad is far easier than Regina.

Emma’s feet drift down the path towards the farm, boots squelching in the snow, but none of the moisture gets to her socks and the screen door opens before she can think about knocking.

“Would have been offended if you had,” David says, pulling her against his chest and answering a question she didn’t have a chance to ask. It’s the hand that does it though. Cupping the back of Emma’s head, there’s something inherently safe about the whole thing, her cheek scrunched and her eyes stinging with more unshed tears and the first whimper she lets out is so goddamn depressing she can’t believe it came from her.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” David chants. Over and over, pressing the promise into her hair and her temple, the bridge of her nose once Emma finally lifts her head, and the slight jut of her chin because she’s nothing if not consistently stubborn and falling apart feels like failure.

“C’mon, we’re going to sit down,” David continues, already directing Emma back into the hallway. And through the hallway. Past more pictures, and this couch looks even more comfortable than the one she’d woken up on, and she’d been right about her mother’s taste in pillows. An excess of frill.

“Was I that obvious that you had to immediately call Regina yesterday?" David shrugs, lifting his arm in unspoken invitation. Emma slings her legs over his when she moves, the flannel now under her cheek oddly comforting. As is the kiss she feels pressed to the crown of her head. “A little,” he chuckles, “but mostly it was Killian’s blatant freakout.” “He wasn’t freaking out. At least not here.” “He was. Not loudly, maybe. But obviously. And you looked at Hope like you’d never seen her. That also kind of freaked out your mom.” “How old is she?”

Emma doesn’t bother being anymore specific. She knows she doesn’t have to — not when her dad’s arm tightens around her shoulders, and she wishes she’d come here first, if only to help keep her balanced on the precarious edge of lingering sanity, and she’s got absolutely no idea where Killian went. She should ask about that too. “Four.” “Shit. That’s—shit.” Another chuckle and second kiss, and David has to shift slightly to make sure Emma’s elbow doesn’t impale his side. “Reasonable response, really. Anything else?” “About a million and two things,” Emma admits, with enough acid in her voice to do permanent damage to the atmosphere. Making science-jokes is apparently a coping device now. “Regina thinks it’s a test. Of whether or not I really will leave, when given some sort of idyllic future.” “Well you’re not a selfish asshole, so I’m sure you’ll do what you have to.” “Kinda blunt, Dad.”

It’s not the first time she’s used that word — but titles have been thrown around in enough conversations already, and Emma’s really very wobbly on her metaphorical cliff and she wants something. Solid and dependable and she refuses to acknowledge how Killian might be both. Is definitely both.

In any version of this life.

“Kinda,” David agrees, “but the knights showed up when you did, and I don’t know if that’s a coincidence. There have been reports coming into the station, too. Stuff feeling out of whack across the realms—” “—How many realms are there, exactly? Is Regina in charge of all of them?”

“There was something of an election.” “For a queen?” “We’re a very progressive united coalition.”

“And you’re what? Prince of that?” David makes a contrary noise, and it takes longer than Emma expects to detail the hierarchy of this realm, but she understands why her mom would need to make royal decrees now and why people keep bowing to her and— “So that makes Killian a prince,” Emma says, pleasantly surprised to realize she does not in fact die when her heart explodes. Or when she realizes that some parts of that bedtime story may actually be based in reality.

She kind of wants to see him spin in the middle of a sword fight.

“Tell him that,” David suggests. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.” “Makes me think he won’t.” “Sometimes people bow to him, just to see what he’ll do.” “Challenge them to a duel?” “Nah, that’d mean he has to get his sword and that’s a whole thing. Plus, he’s got stuff to do in the station and there’s a fair bit of sailing involved.” “He keeps his ship?” Emma asks, sharper than she intends because something’s fluttering at the back of her brain and it’s big and important and she’s got absolutely no idea why. “And did you just say station?” David hums. “Doesn’t like wearing the badge though. Which I think is an affront to the position of deputy, but—” She nearly hits his chin. Jerking her head up, Emma’s eyes widen quickly enough that they also water and her dad might be the asshole here because he doesn’t do anything except smile knowingly at her. “You’re happy here, Emma,” he says, “after everything. And there’s a lot of everything, but it ends eventually. Gets the happily ever after it deserves, that both of you deserve. Although he’s a merciless cheat in Monopoly, drives me nuts every Christmas.”

It’s not a laugh. Not really. Sagging forward, air flies out of Emma’s lungs and her very dry lips, and that second thing is because she keeps breathing out her mouth, and trying to piece together a puzzle she wasn’t all that interested in finishing before. Now it’s all she wants, desperate to see what the picture is, and it’s probably very pretty.

A covered bridge, or an oceanscape or something. Thomas Kinkaid, maybe. And part of her hears the warning, knows all too well that she’s already failing the test, but the rest of her absolutely does not care.

“Are you really here, or is that some kind of trick my mind came up with because you’re actually stuck in Neverland?” David kisses her nose. “Here. And for the time being, so are you. Which means you can sleep.”

“Mind reading isn't one of your talents, as far as I knew.” “I get better at it,” he promises, tugging an exceptionally soft blanket off the back of the couch and Emma doesn’t put up much of a fight before resting her head on his shoulder and promptly falling asleep.

There are lights on in half a dozen windows when David’s new — at least as far as Emma’s concerned — truck comes to a stop in front of her absolutely massive house, and she’s got to get out. Easier said than done, particularly with trembling fingers and obviously fluttering curtains in that one bay window, and it takes no less than four tries for her to undo her seatbelt,

“It’s going to be fine” David says again, “no matter what happens.” “Even with magic being weird?” “We’re not sure that’s entirely your fault.”

Scoffing, Emma tries very hard to believe that. No one’s updated them on the location of the bird. She kind of hates this bird. Possibly all birds, really. “Sure it’s not. So, what—I’m just supposed to go back into this stupidly large mansion and—” “—Wouldn’t all mansions be large?” David interrupts. “By default?” “Did we rob a bank to pay for this?” “You’d have to ask Killian, but I don’t think so.” “He says I call him babe.”

Wincing, Emma belatedly realizes this is probably not a conversation she should be having with her father, but she hasn’t really seen her mother and she wants to talk about it to Regina even less, and she obviously can’t bring it up to Killian when she’s avoiding him so much and—

A door slams. Footsteps rush towards them, voices on the breeze and the snowflakes that have kept falling all day because it’s New England and as far as Emma knows it’s required to snow in New England on Christmas. Or in the days leading up.

David nods towards the door she should have opened five minutes ago.

And it takes her about one sharp inhale, two eyes that very nearly fall out of her head, and that maternal-type adrenaline she’s starting to get used to, for Emma to tumble out of the truck, sprint the few feet between them and practically launch herself into Henry’s waiting arms. Arms that are much more adult than she’s familiar with.

Although that does also make it easier for him to tighten them around Emma’s middle, and she supposes time-traveling beggars cannot be choosers. “Hey,” Henry breathes, mostly into her hair. Wind whips around them, only kind of unnatural and a little magical and the door opens again. Emma doesn’t look up. Seeing Killian standing there, with his feet crossed at the ankles, she’s sure, will only drive her closer to a line she’s not all that willing to cross. Yet. Or ever.

No, definitely ever.

Everyone calling him Killian is nice. Exceptionally, so.

“Killian said it was bad, but…” Trailing off, Henry pulls back and Emma’s crying again. Like a total, entirely incompetent ass. She’s got so many questions still. Her arms tighten, a fresh round of terror rattling around her soul, or some other ridiculous sentiment, and Henry doesn’t argue. He kisses the top of her hair too.

He’s much taller than her now.

“Did Killian talk to you?”

“Mom,” Henry sighs, “c’mon—even when I was a kid, that shouldn’t have surprised you.” It doesn’t, not really. But there’s a grown man in her arms, and snow flying around them, and Henry’s barked “not now, Lu” causes another kid to scamper back up the porch. Towards Killian and his ridiculous grey-streaked hair, and he picks her up without looking away from Emma.

He’s looking at Emma.

Still, or always, or whatever.

“Don’t ask what kind of favors he had to pull in to get us here,” Henry adds, “but he said you’d need it, and it might help and Ella definitely wanted to leave, even if she won’t admit to it, so—”

“Stop telling lies, Henry Mills,” another voice calls from behind Killian, and Emma’s going to pass out. For a variety of reasons, least of all her lack of caloric intake today.

Henry clicks his tongue. A family trait, apparently. “It’s not a lie, she didn’t even really want to go, but Lu gets a ridiculous present haul, so we had to and—” Several puzzle pieces fly into place. Helped along by Lu’s rather loud screech of “papa” directly into Killian’s ear, and Emma is glad she hasn’t eaten. Throwing up on Henry’s shoes is not the festive reunion it should be. “I’m really here,” Henry adds, reading Emma’s mind. Or her face. “No matter what you think might have happened in Neverland, it didn’t. I’m here, and you’re here and Killian made food, so you should probably eat.” She’d been right about the puzzle, it is a pretty picture. One that doesn’t belong to her, entirely. But pretty all the same. Desirable, maybe.

That’s a dangerous line of thinking.

“Hook can cook? Ignore that rhyme, please.” Henry grins, marching them back towards the house as David yells something about getting Snow from school and then there are smells and kids and that goddamn Christmas tree. And it takes Emma a few moments she thinks she deserves to realize—

“How did Henry know I’d come from Neverland?” she asks Killian, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He’s stirring something. She’ll think about that for at least two hours.

“I told him.” “How did you know?” Leveling her with an incredulous stare, Emma once again fails at the whole no blushing thing, and they own a stand mixer. Only adults own stand mixers. “How many times should I request you give me more credit before that also becomes redundant?” “This is probably good enough.” “Generous of you, and it wasn’t very hard. Although I am still trying to pinpoint when it was, exactly. Quite a lot happened in Neverland.” “Looking awfully smug about that.” He shakes his head, offering her the spoon and there’s sauce there. Delicious sauce. This must happen a lot. “Hard to do that when you can’t look at me straight on, but—” “—Echo Caves,” Emma says, rushing to interrupt him. Killian’s eyebrows jump.

“Huh.” “Regina doesn’t think telling me things will affect anything.” “Huh.” “Nothing to add to that?” Silence. More relative, at least. The TV is on, and a pillow fort is apparently being engineered in the living room, and everyone was very quick to leave the pair of them alone. With the sauce. “Thank you, though.”

“For?” “Getting Henry here, whatever favors you had to call in. I—well, Dad told me some of the stuff, and it’s...nice.” His lips disappear when he presses them together. Emma’s still staring, it seems. “Part of the deal, I think.” “Of?” “You really want me to answer that?” “Probably not,” Emma exhales, “but—still. It’s nice, and I...well, I appreciate it.”

“That’s not something you have to thank me for, love. Now, c’mon, I know you haven’t eaten and there are some ravenous kids out there who will mutiny if we don’t get them spaghetti soon.”

Emma nods, not able to say anything else because nice is suddenly a vast understatement, and she eats a second bowl of mostly sauce, and she never really knows how she gets back into bed, only that she fell asleep under the pillow fort with Killian’s shoulder close to hers.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #but once a year #festive fic a thon 2k20 #true story: i wrote this chapter #forgot about the absolutely bonkers state of the show's legitimate timeline #and had to go back and age up robyn #or however it's spelled #honestly i did very minimal research for this story

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jessiebanethedragon · 4 years

Note

A mix of 1&2 for Tech please!!!! He needs more love

hi!!! sorry this took so long, work and school keeping me busy! either. way i hope you like this!!!

oxox Jessie

1. Secret kisses out of prying eyes

2. A kiss to the cheek as a way of calming someone down.

The light runs out before it can bounce off the other end of the cave you’re descending into. So with a gulp you grip the line tighter, wondering if you put too much faith in the whirring machine anchored to the rock above. Between the stalagmites, stalactites, and the wet cold, you feel like this place couldn't get any creepier.

“Approaching 5 parsecs.” Hunter calls out as the team reaches a new depth. Closing your eyes you point the light to the ground.

Nothing greets you.

No mud, rock of even a body of water. And that means you go even further under the planet's surface.

“Tech, i think we need to call it.” You say through the comm. Trying to keep your voice even, looking over at the only other living thing near you. Two sets of cables and the two lightest members on the team is what landed you in this mess in the first place.

“It’s gotta be down here somewhere.” He says confidently, very unaware of the encroaching claustrophobia his teammate is fighting. He shines his helmet torch into the darkness, still nothing.

“Six parsecs.” Hunter’s voice in your ear crackles. And your lungs tighten, the sunlight is useless this deep in the cave. You want out, out before the panic takes root.

Tech drops another flare, and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don't have to see it disappear.

“My calculations say approximately two more klicks and we will hit the bottom.” He says confidently. Looking over to you with what could only be a smile under his helmet. Googled eyes squished to make room for happiness you don’t share.

You yelp as the rope abruptly stops, jerking you around mid air, and your feet flail to stop yourself ccommming into connact with the dark rock wall.

“Hunter?” You question, scared out of your mind.

“out of rope.” He replies following it with a sigh, so close yet so far.

“It’s do-able.” Tech chimes in, and your eyes widen. No, no, no, no. he’s not going to suggest… “we could jump!” His voice seems to echo in your comm, there's no answer from Hunter.

“Hunter?” you repeat yourself, there's no way he’ll allow this, right?

“How would we get you back out?” Is his only response.

“Re-anchor the lines while we search, there's a second spot you can reach two klicks down that’s climbable.” Techs answer is immediate, he’s thought this through. And you might throw up in your helmet.

“Tech…” Your voice is tiny. His eyes snap over to you, and he wall-walks himself so that he can grip your shoulders.

“You’ve got the go-head from me.” Hunter says after some shuffling. And you begin to panic in earnest.

“Tech!” You scream basically into his face, looking down into the darkness, feet going wild, and white knuckling the rope. You hear a click that's too close for comfort. And you look back to your teammate whose hand is on your climbing belt.

“I wouldn't ever let anything happen to you.” He says, too seriously for your liking. And as your hands scrabble to grasp his armour, shoulders or anything you can get a grip on, he undoes the clasp securing you to the rope and you drop into the darkness.

It’s a gut wrenching scream that only stops when you make contact with the ground and you’re winded. So you opt for silent sobs, rolling onto your tummy and curling into yourself. Before harshly ripping off the helmet leaving you in a mess of tears and hair.

Seconds later you see tech’s boots expertly hit the rock, and his adrenalin happy face meets your flushed one. With one hand he takes his helmet off, placing it on the ground next to your own and the other ruffles his hair embarrassed.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He chuckles, still not seeing the seriousness of your predicament. But his face falls dramatically when he sees the tears building in your eyes. “Mesh’la?” He questions softly, and for some reason it’s the nickname that sends you over the edge.

“I don’t even know what that means!” you cry into the darkness. Later you’ll be embarrassed at the outburst, but for now there's just too many emotions to keep held back. “It’s so kriffing dark, and we don’t even have the ropes Tech! There's no way out!” your hand covers a trembling lip. “There's no way out…”

“It’s okay, i’m not going to let anything happen to you, you’re going to be okay.” Tech’s voice is firm but not unkind. Ash-brown eyes meeting yours from behind his goggles.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks from behind you hand, and Tech gently takes it in his, you’re not sure where his gloves are, but when you look away in shame you see them on the floor beside you.

“Don’t apologise.” He coo’s, tugging your own gloves off before pressing a single but firm, lingering kiss to your knuckles. You’re so enamored by the action, you forget your surroundings for the breifist of seconds. His other hand cups your cheek, rubbing calming circles where the tears assault your skin.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod so vigorously that he stifles a chuckle and plants a second kiss to your opposite cheek. Your panic gets stowed away for later as it’s interrupted by Tech’s affections, and your more sarcastic side makes a remark about having a panic attack in front of him more often if this is the treatment you get.

As he begins to pull away, your face follows his, an arm snaking around his shoulders to ground yourself. Eyelashes flutter in remnant panic as you feel his breath on your lips. You’re not sure who leans forward first, maybe you both pull closer at the same time. The only thing you want to think about is how his lips feel on yours. All encompassing and warm. Tech is the only thing that matters, and you feel safe with his lips on yours.

When he pulls away to allow both of you to breathe you squeak in protest, burying your face into his neck in a forceful hug.

“Don’t panic, beautiful, I'd never let anything happen to you.” The statement is punctuated by lots of smaller kisses to your hair and neck. Tech only stops to pull you apart so he can look into your eyes. “Okay?” he confirms, making sure you know how safe you are in his arms.

“Okay.” You whisper, watching his trademark smile appear as his face lights up before he leans in for a second kiss.

#Clone Wars #clones #clone #The Clone Wars #Clone Troopers #clone x reader #clones x reader #the clones x reader #clone wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #clone wars x y/n #the bad batch #Bad Batch #bad batch x reader #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #clone trooper tech #tech x reader

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justimagineitblog · 4 years

Text

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 10

A/N: Alright this one broke and mended my heart all at once while I was writing it - goddamn these characters hahahahaha.

WARNINGS: Swearing, Violence, Guns, Death, Alcohol -

I know I’ve used swear words in previous chapters but this one is quite heavily riddled with it, I also thought I’d warn that there are mentions of death in this one my loves - it’s nothing too full on and I don’t go into heavy descriptions but I just felt like this one needed a warning just incase x

As always, please enjoy xx

As the alarm goes off, Charlie and I both jolt awake in bed. It only takes a few moments to realise that it’s almost half an hour past when we were supposed to be up.

“Fuck!” He shouts as he jumps out of the bed, ripping the sheets back. He’s going on a work trip this weekend with his brother, and if the time on the clock is correct, then the car should be pulling up any moment.

I tear myself out of the bed after him, frantically running around with him to help him get ready.

“Charlie your suit case is in here!” I call as I hear him fumbling around my apartment for his luggage. He runs back into the room, tearing through the cupboards for his suit.

He strips naked right in front of me, and I can’t help but laugh at how much of a mess this is as I try and help him get his suit on.

“He’s gonna kill me if I’m late” he stresses, his hands desperately trying to do up his buttons but he fails. This is a big weekend for their business. If he’s late or messes his up, I know how horrible he will feel about it for a long time.

“Hey, just breathe okay, let me do this” I coo, swatting his hands away as I do his buttons up for him.

He nods, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Once his shirt is buttoned up he takes off again, scurrying around gathering all his paper work, luggage and some how wriggling his shoes on. We both jump in fright as the beeping of a horn below signals that his car is here.

Swearing repeatedly, he runs to the door, but freezes right before he walks out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he breathes, turning back to me with a shaking his head.

“Stop, it’s okay” I promise him, my hands on his chest as I straighten his tie and jacket “You’re gonna be amazing”

With a relieved smile, he presses his lips against mine. I hold his face, trying to soak up as much of him as I can.

“I’ll miss you, don’t get in any trouble while I’m gone eh?”

“Me?” I furrow my brows “I have no idea what you’re talking about”

He laughs, pulling me in for another kiss.

“Okay, okay you have to go” I chuckle as the car horn continues to beep downstairs. He gives me a few last pecks and before I know it he’s gone, running down the hallway, leaving me flustered in his wake.

I run over to the window, watching as he gets in the car and gives me one last wave. I return the gesture, blowing him a kiss that he pretends to catch as the car pulls away and disappears from my sight.

Slinking back through my apartment I collapse lazily back into my bed, arms and legs flailed in every direction as I fall back asleep.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

“Hello?”

“Hi you”

I smile as Charlie’s voice speaks like honey through the phone line.

“Miss me already?” I tease.

“Most definitely” he replies, when suddenly the sound of excitement and hollering fills the phone.

“The deal went well then?” I chuckle at his excitement.

“The deal went… incredibly,” he begins, trying to speak over the mens in the background “Actually, we made an ever bigger deal than we originally planned on… they want to financially support the entire business, Izzy”

“Oh my god, Charlie, that’s amazing!” I exclaim

“I was gonna wait to tell you when I got home but… Izzy I think we’re going to move up here”

My jaw drops as I press the phone closer to my ear to make sure I heard him right. When I don’t reply, he begins to fill in the blanks eagerly.

“They want us to move up here Izzy, they want to support us and the whole business-“

The weight of what he’s actually saying begins to wash over me as a million questions leap and bound through my mind.

“Charlie-“ I stutter “You’ve been there for 5 hours” I blurt out, glancing at the clock. 5 hours. That’s barely enough time to decide you want to move 3 hours away. Permanently.

“I know, I know, but we just made the biggest deal of our lives… I’ve gotta follow this Izzy”

“Oh my god” I breathe, trying to sound excited but doing an absolutely horrid job of hiding my shock.

“That’s not why I wanted to call you though, I think I have a proposition for you” I hold my breath. So far, I couldn’t have predicted this conversation even if I tried. I have no idea what is about to come out of his mouth.

“Well you see, I told him I wasn’t moving up here unless they set us up with a proper home because…” He takes a deep breath before blurting out his next words “I want you to come with me, Izzy”

The second the words leave his mouth I freeze. Go with him. Did he just ask me to move away with him? Move three hours away? Away from my home. The place I grew up. Away from my job. Away from the Shelby’s.

“Izzy? Izzy are you there? What do you think?” I hear his muffled voice asking through the phone as I snap back into reality. Heat rises up my neck and over my face as I fumble for my words.

“What do I think?” I echo his words. I don’t know what I think. Actually, I’m thinking way to much.

“I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to pack your bags right now. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home”

Pack my bags?

My breath quickens as do my racing thoughts and heart rate.

“Okay, I have to go!” he rushes quickly as the shouting and hollering behind him gets louder, urging him to go and join the celebrations.

And just like that, the phone line goes silent. I stand in the lurch for minute after minute trying to digest what just happened. I fumble for a chair, trying to steady myself as I sit down. The whole conversation was such a rush and a whirlwind that I feel physically light headed.

We’ve only been together for a month.

But if I don’t move away with him, is that the end of us? We would hardly be able to visit one another during the week. And even weekends aren’t always free. Between both of our work schedules, how would we ever make time. Three hours away. That’s no short trip. If anything happened back here, I wouldn’t be able to get back in a hurry. What if Tommy got into trouble? And Arthur? What if Polly needed me? And then the most regretful, dreaded thought crosses my mind. What about Michael?

I feel physically ill. I can’t move. I can’t do this. The phone that’s rested in my lap begins to ring obnoxiously, frightening me so badly I almost throw it clean across the room. Maybe I should. Maybe I should break the goddamn thing.

“Shit” I hiss, running a hand through my hair as my heart pounds so hard it feels like it might just jump straight out of my chest.

I yank the phone towards my ear, completely exhausted and flustered.

“Izzy? Darling it’s Polly”

I sigh, trying to calm myself down enough to sound somewhat normal and coherent.

“Hi Poll, what’s up?”

“Look don’t panic, we just need you to come down here okay”

The tight nervousness of her voice snaps me straight out of my cloudy, foggy state.

“Polly what’s going on?” I reply urgently, standing up from my chair in a panic.

“It’s alright. Just come down to the office okay? We’ve got a client here and-” she pauses as voices in the background get louder and I strain desperately to hear who is there “We just need you to go over some things”

“I’m coming now” I hang up the phone immediately.

Something isn’t right.

I race out the door without my coat, my hand bag, anything. I don’t even bother trying to be subtle as I run through the streets, tearing my way through people and around corners until I see the office ahead. As I get closer the fear in the pit of my stomach grows bigger and bigger.

Polly never sounds like that. What the hell is going on. What am I about to find inside.

The sound of sudden shouting from inside sends a crashing wave of fear and adrenaline through me as I burst into the office through the back door. What I find when I walk in sends my stomach into back flips. I freeze, almost tripping over my own feet from stopping to abruptly.

All heads shoot towards me. Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael. They look terrified, there eyes wide with panic as they’re stood at the edges of the room, their backs practically up against the walls. And it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. My eye’s immediately fall over a man stood in the middle of the room.

He’s standing amidst the office desks which have been flipped and smashed all over the floor. Paper is thrown everywhere. I would call him a stranger, but he’s not. I know this man. We all know this man. He is a client. Bill Rodgers.

I have seen him a few times. Met with him. Met his wife and children. He pays donations to us once a month, in return, we look after his family if they ever need anything. A simple agreement. We do that for a lot of families around here. He’s never been overly warm. But friendly enough. And I don’t know him incredibly well. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise there is something wrong. Besides the fact that the office is a mess. With chairs, desks and tables scattered across the room. Paper work everywhere. Bill stands in the middle of it all.

His doing I assume.

And he is completely wasted. I can smell it on him. All the way from the door way, my nose catches the distinct smell of whiskey. It almost fills the room. You have to drink bottles of whiskey, or spend days on end inside of a pub to smell like that. Even the way he stands, head to the floor, grumbling, swaying. Muttering to himself. But that’s not even the most concerning thing. No. The most concerning thing about Mr Rodgers is not his drunken stupor.

But the pistol that he is clutching in his hand.

I swallow hard when I see it. I glance to the floor, where I realise they have placed all of their guns.

He must have demanded them to drop their guns.

What I cannot figure out, about Bill, is what the hell he wants. He has never caused any trouble. Never gotten in trouble with the law. Never betrayed us. What the hell is doing here in a drunken rage with a gun?

“Bill,” Tommy begins, his arms outstretched to him “This is Isabelle”

I glance nervously at Tommy as he signals for me to come over to stand beside him. I rush over to his side, and he steps in front of me ever so slightly. Bill looks up at me gravely, through the disheveled hair falling in his face. I try to hold his eyes, staying calm and gentle. In his state, anything could set him off.

“And what is she gonna do about it huh?” He growls “They’re dead Tommy”

“Bill-“

“No, Tommy” he shouts “I pay you donations every month, yeah, and you look after my family in return. BUT THEY’RE GONE! THEY’RE GONE TOMMY!” His voice grows louder as he waves his arms in the air, and we all take a few steps back as we watch the pistol in his clutch nervously.

Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Bill,” I say gently and he shoots his eyes in my direction “Just tell me what happened, and I can help you. Whatever you need. But I have to know how to help you first”

He stares at me, reluctantly, angrily, before something seems to give.

“They’re dead” He breathes “Sarah, and my boys. I was out, and the house was robbed. They stole everything and killed my fucking family”

My heart drops. He lost his family. All of them. This man is hurting. He is in pain. We are supposed to provide protection. His house being robbed is something none of us could have prevented, or helped, but he has just lost his entire family, and he’s looking for someone to blame.

I can’t believe my own actions when I find myself walking slowly towards him. I feel everyone in the room tense, as I do. This man may normally be harmless, but right now he is intoxicated and armed. And I’m walking straight into it.

“Izzy, don’t” I hear Tommy’s voice hiss so silently I almost miss it. But I ignore him.

“Bill, we can help you okay” I take another slow, weary step towards him treading so lightly I barely make a sound “We can find the men who did this, but I just need you to put your gun down for me”

He sways, seeming to lose his stability. The whiskey coursing through him right now must be making him see double.

Suddenly he bursts into sobs, and I almost jump out of my skin. He sinks to the floor, falling among the debris in a pile of sobs and cries.

Keeping my eyes firmly glued on the gun, I lower myself to his level.

“No one can help me” he whimpers in between cries.

“We can help you, I promise” I breathe, the stench of whiskey slapping me in the face and burning my nostrils as I shuffle closer and closer. I’m only inches away from him. Close enough to reach out and take the gun from his lose grip. With one head in his hands, and the other hanging by his side, he’s so distraught I don’t even think he would notice.

I hear feet shuffling around me, as they all begin to reach for their guns just incase.

I hold my breath, praying over and over again silently to myself as I extend my arm. My hand shaking as I close in on the pistol.

But the second my skin touches his, my hand brushing the pistol ever so slightly as I almost grab a hold of it, it sets him off like a match igniting a bomb. His giant stature lurches upwards as he roars with rage. Happening all to fast for me to comprehend, or even try to escape, he shoves me with a brute force that I’ve never felt before. He pummels me, bashing me up against the wall, the back of my head colliding with it so loudly against it that I think I black out momentarily as everything goes white. My ears, are ringing, piercing and loud and I only just begin to comprehend what’s happening when I feel his hands around my throat.

His forehead is pressed roughly against mine, his thick breath hot and drenched in pungent alcohol as his chest rises and falls heavily. I grab at his hands, clawing desperately to try and pry them off as his grip tightens. He shakes me like a rag doll, shoving me so harshly into the wall that I’m just waiting for it to give way. He stares at me with rage, with ferocity that I have never seen before. Frozen, paralysed in fear, all I can do is stare back into them.

The sound of gun chambers cocking all around us catches his attention, and suddenly I’m being pulled away from the wall. He spins me around, and the blow to my head as well as lack of oxygen disorients me completely. It’s not until I feel the burning of cold metal against my temple that I come back to my senses. Bill is stood behind me, one arm around my chest to keep me still, my back pressed against him. The other hand, is pressing the barrel of his pistol against the side of my skull.

I stiffen immediately, not even breathing as he faces me towards the Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael, who all have their guns aimed at him.

“PUT THE FUCKING GUNS DOWN OR I’LL BLOW HER BRAINS OUT ALL OVER THESE WALLS” He screams at them, his booming voice almost defeating me in one ear as he presses the pistol harder against my head.

Tommy, Polly and Arthur drops their guns to the floor immediately.

But Michael doesn’t budge.

Our eyes lock, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so terrified. He is completely pale, all the blood drained from his face as he aims the gun at Bill’s head.

“Just put the gun down” I whimper, and he shakes his head frantically, refusing to.

“Let go of her” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice cracking and shaking.

My ears prick as Bill cocks the gun, the chamber clicking.

“An eye for an eye huh,” Bill breathes, beginning to sob again “I fucking kill her and then we’re even for you not protecting my fucking boys”

“Bill let her go” Tommy warms, holding his arms out to him “We are going to find the men that did this and when we do, they are going to get what they deserve. But this…” she shakes his head “This isn’t the answer”

My eyes dart from Tommy back to Michael, who has not moved an inch, gun still aimed.

“I TOLD YOU TO PUT THAT FUCKING GUN DOWN” Bill shouts at Michael, completely ignoring Tommy’s words.

“Michael” I plead desperately, dread washing over me so heavily that I feel ill. I watch as he shakes his head, refusing. His wide open, panic strike eyes have turned glassy, and I can feel tears stinging and biting at my own eyes.

“It’s okay,” I breathe, giving him the smallest nod I can manage with the pistol against my head “Just put it down”

His eyes flicker between me and Bill, and I have to fight to not release a harsh exhale of relief as he lowers his gun to the ground.

“There you go Bill, all the guns are down, now let us talk to you eh?” Tommy negotiates, trying to sound as calm and gentle as he can. But I can see his palpating jaw. His tense body. The veins in his neck bulging from holding his breath. He is the furthest thing from calm.

For a moment I feel Bill’s grip loosen, and in my peripheral I can see the pistol fall away from my head as his arms falls to his side.

He’s letting his guard down.

I shut my eyes, taking a shaky breath in through my nose.

“You’re going to find them” he growls his orders at Tommy “And when you find them, I’m going to kill them”

“Bill…” Tommy shakes his head, trying to be as polite as possible “Bill I can’t let you do that. If you kill them, they’ll only send you to jail… just let us take care of it-“

“TAKE CARE OF IT!” He screams, and I can’t help a whimper from escaping my mouth “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF MY FAMILY. BUT YOU DIDN’T-“

Tommy opens his mouth, to try and say anything that will calm him, appease him. But once bill has been set off, there is no taming the fire that is his rage. I should have known. There is no reasoning with a drunk man.

With a grieving man.

“No, no, this is your fault” I feel him nodding his head behind me as he points the gun at all of them “This is your fault, and you’re the ones who are going to fucking pay. YOU’RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING PAY”

His cry is the one of a final war cry, and I know what’s coming next.

The next moments of my life feel like they are in slow motion. Suddenly the barrel of the gun is pressed straight up against my head again as he shoves it against my temple. The last thing I see is Tommy, Polly, and Arthur lunging forward, all shouting and begging for Bill to stop before it’s to late.

This is it. This is the last thing I’m going to hear. The last thing I’m going to feel is the end of a pistol pressed again my skull, before I feel nothing at all. Please let it be painless.

A single gun shot fires into the atmosphere.

I expect nothingness. More black. Maybe heaven. Or hell. Though I’m not ever sure if I believed in God.

But I feel myself breathing, my chest still rising and falling. I hadn’t even realised I had squeezed my eyes shut when they shoot open to find myself still in the office.

I’m alive.

The first thing I see is Michael. His gun aimed not at me, but at where Bill had been standing.

It wasn’t Bill’s gun that fired. It was Michael’s.

Bill is dead.

Everything washes over me all at once. Relief. Horror. Fear. Adrenaline. My head is pounding, and entire body feels like I’m floating. Completely weak and empty. Not strong enough to stand, and having lost all feeling in my body, I feel myself collapsing to the floor.

Right before I hit the ground, I find myself falling right into a pair of arms. All noise is muffled, and I feel completely numb as I almost completely pass out for a moment. The only thing I can hear is the throbbing and pounding of my head. It’s not until I come back around moments later that I realise whose arms I’m in.

They’re familiar arms. Strong. Firm. I’ve felt this exact grip before. They way the seem to hold me together. I thought I had forgotten how they felt. But I still know them anywhere.

Michael.

He scoops me up with desperation, and I don’t know who is clinging on to who as he holds onto me like its his life that depends on it. The only thing stopping me from crashing to the floor is him. His arms has envelope me completely, engulfing me in like a safety net. Wrapping me up in a way that I’ve only ever experienced with Michael.

My body and mind still completely disoriented, I find myself only being able to cry. That’s the only thing that comes out. With my face buried in his chest, he holds the back of my head, pressing me so close to him I can barely even breath. But I don’t care. I’m alive.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you” He chants frantically against my ear, and I can’t tell who he is trying to calm down more. Me or himself.

Beneath his chest, I can hear his heart racing. It pounds loudly against my ear. His grip on me never lets up, he doesn’t budge whatsoever. He just holds me. Let’s me sob, staining through his shirt. Everything else fades out. Everything seems to go away. Not just Bill’s attack. It’s like the last few months haven’t even happened. Nothing else matters right now except for the fact that I’m in his arms.

I feel a pair of trembling hands on my face and when I look up I find my eyes opening into Michael’s. His eyes are wide, panic filled and pooling with tears. As we stare at one another, it’s almost like he can’t quite believe I’m in his arms right now. Even though it’s over now, he still has residue terror all over his face. I know he thought that he was about to lose me for good. Forever.

Up until now I’ve barely been able to take a full breath or even begin to stop hyperventilating. But something about the hold his eyes have on me begins to centre me. I feel myself being grounded. Like I’m coming back to my surroundings. Those serene blue eyes give me something to anchor to as the panic slowly but surely leaves my system.

Without even meaning to we find our foreheads pressed to each others, his grip on my face still firm.

“Look at me” his voice is barely a whisper, as it shakes, threatening to break completely “You’re safe”

Pulling me back into a hug, he grips onto me so tightly as if I’m going to disappear if he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to let go, because I feel like I might just break and crumble if I don’t have him holding all my pieces together.

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liddolwhynot2000 · 3 years

Text

Decisions Of a Capricorn

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Summary: Levi Ackerman woke up one fine morning. In the past. Shit.

Genre: Angst, lets-change-shit, drama, liddol romance (Levixhappiness)

Warning: Manga spoilers

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Chapter 1: Admit it

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Summary: As a Capricorn, patience and determination are amongst your most well known qualities. Although no one is immune to occasional frustrations, you attempt to be understanding and calm in all your dealings.

Alternatively, Levi tries to make sense of what the hell is going on and tries not to chose violence.

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What. the. Fuck.

This couldn't be happening, it seriously couldn't. Was it a dream? No, he had punched his fist into a wall, pinched himself but still, it all felt too real. Maybe he was in some sort of fucked up heaven? Whatever the case, he felt ready to throw hands with whatever deity had done this to him.

With a shaky breath, Levi began to calm himself and sort through the situation. His fingers were back, he could see from his left eye again. There weren't any scars on his face nor any bandages on his chest. Levi was, by all means, back to his prime. Which would be great news really, except he was apparently five fucking years in the past. At least he thought it was five, considering the very much alive faces of his Special Ops Squad.

He had woken up, disorientated, expecting to either be bleeding out or in hell with Erwin. The sight of his impeccably clean office had made him pause. When he had heard a knock on the door and automatically told the person to come in, he had damn near short circuited at the sight of a very much alive Eld, strolling in with a cup of steaming tea.

What. The. Fuck.

Years of dealing with Hange and titans and the bullshit called life had hardened Levi to the point he could keep his expression neutral infront of the teen. He listened as Eld prattled on about duties and nodded along, not trusting himself to speak lest he shatter the world he had ended up in.

'.. Captain we'll be leaving for the castle today with Eren..'

Eren. Eren fucking Yeager. Oh God, he was going to kick this brats ass. Even if this likely was nothing more then an illusion, he would whoop Eren to hell and back for the shit he had put them through-

'Umm- captain?'

Snapping out of his vivid strangling Eren fantasies, he composed himself.

'We'll leave shortly. Prepare for the journey.

'Yes Sir!'

On second thought, Levi thought as he leaned back in his chair, whatever deity had thrown him here might deserve a little thanks. He owed Yeager a black eye. Scratch that, he owed both Yeagers a black eye. Well, in Zeke's case it was more of a blade through his throat. Maybe he could at least achieve that in his dream world.

____________________________________

'.... So the mission plan is..'

Levi had spent the last 5 years missing his dear friend. He had truly cherished Erwin, and hadn't enjoyed his own part in the man's death. But, he had forgotten how tedious and boring meetings with him were. Just how did the man go on and on about this crap and not lose his mind? And how had he ever listened along and not bashed someone's, preferably his own, head on the wall?

Sipping his tea, he silently wondered how long this was going to last. The weird fantasy he was stuck was exceptionally accurate, not a thing out of place. It was almost as if it was all real. But he knew better then to delude himself, and so was only really playing along until he was back in his own time. Or world. Or whatever. The figuring out what-the-hell-is-going-on was more of Hange's thing. Speaking of which, Levi paused mid sip as someone kicked the door open, interrupting Erwin mid speech.

'....Ness and his squad are in the right-'

'ERWWWIINNNN'.

Levi perked up. Just a few hours ago, he had seen the exuberant woman burn to death. One of his closest friends was suddenly alive and well and absolutely fi-

'PLEASE LET ME EXPERIMENT ON EREN PLE-'.

And, just as obnoxiously loud as ever, he chuckled to himself. He watched as she enthusiastically shook Erwin, demanding Eren for herself. The usually composed blonde commander looked like he wished he was the commander of any other military branch as he fended her off. Moblit could only try and fail to pull her away.

This Hange looked just as youthful she had been before becoming commander. Her eyes bright, arms flailing around like a tornado, voice screeching higher then it should be legal. It was the Hange that had been missing for quite some time now-replaced by an overburdened, tired version of herself. It felt good to see her rampaging around and giving Moblit heart problems and probably reducing his lifespan. Just like the old times.

'Hey shitty four eyes.'

'Hi Le..vi..'

Hange trailed off, clearly stunned. Erwin raised an eyebrow at him while Levi nonchalantly set his tea cup down.

'What? You constipated?'

'No, it's just, you never say hi to me..'

'Yes I do.'

Hange went on as though she hadn't heard him.

'....While smiling like that.'

Oh. That explained alot. Levi hastily corrected his expression, he had gotten too caught up in his relief of seeing Hange alive and actually smiled at her. Said woman, however, was suddenly in his face, hand resting on his forehead.

'Do you have a fever? What if this is a side effect of titan shifters on short people-'

'Shut the fuck up four eyes.'

'And he's back to normal. So, Erwin, I need Eren to myself for-'

'Hange- you're talking too fast-'

'Section Commander please calm down-'

'....We have so many experiments to conduct. What if there are titans attracted to Eren? What if he gives off pheremones and they want to MATE with him?'

The entire room went silent. Moblit looked like his soul had left his body, Erwin and Levi stared at her in disbelief. The former looked ready to hand in his resignation to God for his existence and the latter looked irritated.

Thankfully, Erwin spoke up first, before Levi could attempt to throw Hange out the window.

'That's enough. We won't be putting him through experiments that we know have no basis-'

Levi watched as Erwin began lecturing a pouting Hange. He poured a cup of tea and nudged it towards Moblit, who tossed him a grateful look.

A part of him wanted to smile, happy to be back with the people he cared about. To have his comrades alive and well in front of him. It gave him a sense of peace that he hadn't had in a long time.

But, ever the pessimistic, he dashed his own hopes.

None of this was real.

____________________________________

It was an effort, but through sheer will power, Levi managed to curb his violent urge to beat the shit out of Eren. Instead, he allowed them to make their journey to the castle, feeling hazy and distracted. His squad and Eren chattered as he rode ahead on his horse. He could vaguely make out Olou obnoxiously picking on Eren and biting his tongue. Just like the last time he had been there.

He couldn't bring himself too look at them for too long, the horrifying scenes of their deaths would start flashing in his mind. Too long his nightmares had consisted of the deaths of the people riding alongside him. He often darkly imagined that they had blamed him. For not getting there in time. For not telling them about the female titan. For being a useless, shitty captai-

Levi cut off that train of thought. Not now. Not when they were in front of him, so full of life.

Seeing his squad, alive and bickering like usual, it was too good of a sight to pass up. Olou childishly imitating him, Eld and Gunther poking fun at Petra and Olou, Eren floundering about as though he wasn't planning on mass murdering billions of people in five years. It made him miss them even more, knowing none of what was happening was actually happening.

He had spent years mourning his comrades. When Paradise had begun advancing in technology, when they had seen the ocean and explored what was on the other side of it, he had missed all of them. Achieving so much without them had always left him feeling a little empty.

How long was this journey going to last? How long would he spend in this fantasy world? Why was he even here? Maybe he was still alive and hallucinating about the people of his past. This was all in his head, the dying dreams of a useless old man taking his last breathes. As they reached the castle, he immediately gave orders for cleaning the filthy place.

He would mourn his own failures later.

____________________________________

Later at night, Levi sat in his chair, feeling his frustration return to him full force. Dream world or not, it didn't change how useless he had become. Losing to that shitty monkey, getting so brutally injured, unable to contribute a damn thing to the battle. Armin had gotten kidnapped right in front of his eyes, Connie had nearly died and Mikasa of all people had to save him . He was the one those idiots called humanity's strongest yet he had been nothing but cannon fodder. A burden.

He hadn't been able to do shit for them. Zeke was still alive, a horde of shitty titans with limitless energy were blocking their way to Eren, they had no supplies and no way of leaving the battlefield without Armin. An absolutely pathetic situation--and it had been all his fault.

If only he had killed Zeke back in the forest. If he had chopped his head off and burned his body to ashes, none of this would have happened. Eren had needed Zeke to activate the rumbling, without him, none of this would have happened. So many lives had been lost because of that monkey, turned into mindless titans and slaughtered. Commander Pixis, Nile..

And he was the one who let it get that far.

Rather then ending the entire battle in a flash- he had made a mistake. A mistake that had cost them too much. His own abilities and the lives of his comrades. He would never be able to sleep in peace again.

With Zeke dead, they would have had time. Eren would need Historia for the rumbling and would have had to wait till she gave birth. They could have talked things through--or sealed Eren up or even given Eren's power to someone else. Anything would have been better then the senseless genocide Eren had launched.

A part of him also questioned if he was to blame for Eren lashing out like this. Coming up with such a plan, going against the military.. Why had Eren not trusted him? He hadn't been the nicest but, Levi felt a pang of hurt as thought about how much he had sacrificed for Eren. His comrades and their lives had been reduced to less then dirt particles, to keep Eren alive. Only for him to turn on them so easily. If Eren and Zeke had been really working together, did that mean he had known Zeke would try to kill him? Was there anything he could have done to change the outcome of all of this? Just where had he messed up with Eren and lost track of him? Despite all the questions plaguing him, he knew he couldn't undo the past. Dwelling on it like this was doing him no favours.

And now, here he was, despite his failiures, in tip top shape, completely okay. Yet he wasn't where he was needed. His brats were fighting for their lives and here he was fantasising about a better life as though he hadn't just damned all the others.

Scowling fiercely, he forced himself to calm down. Nothing would make how miserable he was feeling go away. He could only wait for himself to wake up and face his reality. Hopefully, he would be the only casualty in the mission. He wasn't sure he could look any of them in the eye again if he lived and one of them hadn't. Sasha's death had already been too much for him.

His headache wouldn't go away, so he went to make himself some tea. Only, he found himself stopping short at the sound of someone sniffling. Levi discreetly approached the source of the sound.

Remus Ferguson

The brat had been in the survey corps for about a year now. If Levi recalled right, he had lost his girlfriend in the last expedition, which explained the tears so late at night. Remus himself would die when the female titan attack-

Wait.

What. The. Fuck.

He hadn't seen this before. Everything so far, every interaction, it had occurred before. But this hadn't. He hadn't seen remus crying last time. He had known of Remus crying up a storm at night, courtesy of his squad members. But he hadn't witnessed it first hand.

Watching the teen sob, he began rationalising the events of today.

If he was in some self constructed fantasy world, why wasn't it all happy? Why were there still titans? Why was anyone in pain? Where were Isabel and Farlan? He knew he had never wanted to see any of his comrades in pain. Unless...this wasn't just a dying man's fantasy..

If he had to fantasise about a happier time in his life, wouldn't it be with his mother? He had always known that the one thing he had wanted most in the past twenty something years was to feel his mother's warmth again. To hear her sweet voice sing him a lullaby to sleep. So if he really was dying, why see this? Why be back at a time where everything was just okay? Why not a time where he was actually happy?

In fact, why not a world where he everyone he wanted to be alive was alive? Rather then a dream, it felt like he had been plucked from one time period and left to live his life from another one...

His mind raced as he finally reached a conclusion, and without a second thought he fled back to his room, too shocked to acknowledge his new discovery.

____________________________________

A knife had been Levi's companion in life far longer then any other human being. His mother, Kenny, Isabel, Farlan, Erwin, Hange and all his other comrades had come and gone. But knives had been consistent. Constant.

Even after he had escaped the clutches of the underground and its lawlessness, he had always carried one with him. It made him feel safe, knowing he had weapon-- even if it was virtually useless while fighting titans. Of course, Erwin hadn't known about it. It was the one thing he wasn't willing to be talked out of, even by Erwin.

Although, Levi mused to himself, Erwin would have been justified in taking it away if he could see him right now, pointing said weapon at his arm, ready to slice.

If he actually bled, if he was still sitting here, bleeding but alive and well, he would admit his findings to himself and move forward, just as he always had. He would accept the situation, no matter how crazy it seemed, and plan accordingly.

Resolving himself, he slid the knife.

Ten minutes later, Levi finally admitted it.

He had travelled back in time.

____________________________________

A/N: So this idea got stuck in my head, because I rewatched AOT and realized a bunch of stuff that could be changed. I picked Levi because he's my favorite. There's going to be more parts for this--where Levi just changes everything. And it'll basically end up a happier AOT. And yes, I plan on giving Levi some romance in this too, because this boi deserves it 😤. It won't be complete happiness and fluff, because I plan on it being realistic. I also don't know if anyone would actually like this but the urge to write it was too great. So, till next time!⭐

#AOT #snk #Attack on titan #Levi ackerman #Time travel #manga spoilers #They all deserve better #Isayama won't let them be happy :(#Action #Liddol romance #Let's change it all pls

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

Forests and piggyback rides

Febuwhump Day 5: “don’t try to pin this on me”

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“Which way Pete?” Tony asked.

Peter chewed his bottom lip as he looked left and then right. He honestly had no idea. All the trees and shrubs in the lush rainforest looked the same.

“Um…” That tree to left seemed kind of familiar. Didn’t it?

“Maybe…I think we should go…that way.” He pointed in the direction of the sort of familiar tree.

“You have no idea.” Tony deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Uh…no.” He admitted.

“Kid you were supposed to be in charge of directions.”

“And then I told you I’m terrible with directions, so you said we’d figure it out together.” Peter threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t try to pin this on me!”

Tony took a deep breath and looked up at the sky as if to ask for help from above. When he looked back at Peter, he gave a quick nod and said, “Right. So we’re lost.”

“I guess that depends on your definition of lost. We know we’re in a rainforest somewhere in Brazil, so I mean we’re not completely lost.”

“We’re lost.” Tony repeated.

“So…we should stay put?” Peter asked hesitantly. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re lost?”

“Yeah if you’re in kindergarten and baddies with guns aren’t chasing you.” Mr. Stark said, glancing back the way they’d came, as if mentioning them might make them appear.

“Ok so what do we do?” Peter asked, and he hated that he had to ask, because going on these missions with Mr. Stark always felt like a test for the big leagues, and when he didn’t know what to do, he felt like he was failing.

“We keep going and hope Rhodey finds us or we somehow stumble across the Quinjet.”

“Too bad we can’t use the suits.” Peter mumbled and they started walking again.

“Yep. It’s just not our day.”

The mission had been a success at least. They’d gotten into the remote Hydra hold out and planted incendiaries to blow the place, but someone had spotted them on the way out, and in their desperation to catch them, they’d fired an EMP which had fried both their suits, so Peter and Tony had ended up fleeing into the forest. At least the bombs had still detonated. And they’d gotten away. Although it was crazy hot here. And the dense foliage and bugs were starting to get on his nerves.

Peter pushed more hanging vines to the side while batting another huge fly-like beetle thing away from his face. The stupid insect distracted him just long enough that he missed the ground under his feet suddenly disappearing. His spidey sense flared, but the warning didn’t come soon enough.

The forest floor dropped out under his feet and he fell with a yelp.

“Kid!” Tony yelled from behind him.

His back slammed against the steep muddy incline and he slid down the hill, arms flailing, trying to grab onto something to slow his progression, but all the shrubbery broke away in his hands and his sticky powers wouldn’t work on the muddy ground.

He must’ve stumbled on some kind of steep river embankment because that was the sight that greeted him below his feet. If he didn’t stop soon he was going to end up taking a swim. And he wasn’t the best swimmer. And the river didn’t look particularly inviting with the turbulent white froth rising from its churning waters.

In desperation he threw his leg to the side, trying to wedge his foot between two small tree trunks that met near the ground. And it worked. A second later he jerked to a stop. And felt something snap in his ankle. He let out a pained cry. But at least he’d stopped. He wasn’t going to drown. Except now he was stuck. He hung upside down, foot caught between the tree trunks, and he was afraid to try to free himself because he didn’t want to end up tumbling back down into the river. Well, this was less than ideal. And his ankle hurt. Even breathing sent sparks of pain up his leg, so he tried his best not to move.

“Hold on kid!” Mr. Stark called from the top of the embankment and Peter craned his head to see the man starting to make his way tentatively down the hill toward him.

“Be careful!” He warned before letting his head flop back down into the mud. The blood had started rushing to his face, but he didn’t mind the sensation. He was used to it from being Spiderman.

It took Mr. Stark awhile to reach him, but eventually the man saddled up beside him, sweaty and red faced. “All right Pete. I’m here.”

Peter could see the tension pinching around his eyes, proof he was worried.

“You were right Mr. Stark.” He groaned.

“I always am.” The man answered distractedly, eyeing his leg and how it was jammed into the branching tree trunks. “What was I right about this time?”

“This is not our day.”

Mr. Stark huffed out a laugh and crawled up to examine his foot closer.

“Ok, I know how to get you out.” Mr. Stark said decisively. “First, we need to sit you up.” Mr. Stark snaked an arm under his shoulders and pulled him up to an awkward seated position. “And now I just need to…” Mr. Stark leaned toward his foot while still supporting him behind his back, and he grabbed the heel of his foot and yanked. His foot came free with a spike of agony.

“Sorry buddy.” Mr. Stark apologized.

“That’s ok.” He kept his eyes scrunched closed, trying to ride out the pain. “Had to be done.”

Peter took a few more slow breaths and opened his eyes, meeting Mr. Stark’s concerned gaze.

“You ok?” His mentor asked.

Peter nodded.

“Ok, then let’s try to get you in a better position. This might hurt a little.” Mr. Stark said apologetically.

“I’ll be ok.”

Mr. Stark held under his knee to keep his foot off the ground, and with a little help from Peter, twisted him around so his legs faced down the hill instead of up. He let out a relieved sigh when he’d settled into the new position. It was a lot more comfortable. “Thanks Mr. Stark.”

The man sat down hip to hip with him, resting backwards on his hands, mirroring Peter’s position. They rested like that in silence for a couple minutes before Mr. Stark asked, “Do you think you can walk?”

Peter tried wiggling his ankle and sucked in a sharp breath at the pain. Yeah that was going to be a no go.

“I don’t think so.” He said, wincing. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. We’ll…figure it out.” Mr. Stark looked around as if the answer might be found in the trees.

“Maybe we should just stay here.” He suggested, not seeing any other option.

“Rhodey will never find us here.” Mr. Stark shook his head.

“Neither will the bad guys.”

Mr. Stark let out a quiet snort and kept searching their environment for some sort of solution.

Peter knew he wasn’t going to find one. “You should go Mr. Stark.”

“What?” Mr. Stark asked sharply.

“You should get out of here, and when you find Colonel Rhodes you can come back for me.” Peter explained.

“No. I’m not leaving you here by yourself. Hurt and undefended.”

“I’m Spiderman. I’m never undefended.” He argued.

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.” And the steel in his voice was enough to convince Peter there was no way he’d be able to change the man’s mind.

“Then what are we going to do?” He asked.

Mr. Stark looked up toward the top of the embankment and then back down at Peter before he nodded decisively and said, “I’m going to carry you.”

Peter eyed the man dubiously. “Mr. Stark you could barely make it down by yourself. There’s no way you can make it back up there carrying me.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do. Besides, going up is easier than going down.”

Peter supposed that was true, but he wasn’t in any hurry for Mr. Stark to drop him or for both of them to go plummeting back down the sharp incline into the river.

He didn’t get any more time to protest. Mr. Stark was already crouching down next to him, but with his back to him. Peter frowned.

“Come on kid. Giddy up.” Mr. Stark flapped his hands toward his back and Peter finally got it. Mr. Stark wanted to give him a piggyback ride.

“This is humiliating.” He mumbled, but after a few false starts, he managed to get on Mr. Stark’s back with his arms clasped together over the man’s chest as his mentor held his legs at his knees.

“Ready?” Mr. Stark asked once he was in a good position.

“Yeah.”

“Here we go.” Mr. Stark said as if to bolster himself, and then shakily stood, blowing out a long breath of air like Peter had seen people do when they were weightlifting.

“Are you ok Mr. Stark?”

“Oh yeah just great.” The man grunted as he took a step up the hill. So far so good. “You’re light as a feather.”

Peter knew he wasn’t. Mr. Stark made it about ten feet before he started puffing and Peter could see the beads of sweat starting to pop out on his neck.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked again.

“Just peachy.” He grit out. “But no more talking. I have to concentrate.”

Peter had to admit that Mr. Stark impressed him. He didn’t think there was any way the man could carry him all the way back up. But it looked like he was going to make it. Fifteen minutes after he’d picked him up, Mr. Stark crested the hill. The man was audibly out of breath and drenched with sweat, but he’d made it. As soon as his feet hit flat ground, Mr. Stark abruptly fell to his knees, and Peter let an involuntary grunt as his leg bumped against the ground.

“Sorry kid.” Mr. Stark apologized between gasps. “But time to get off.”

Peter slid the rest of the way down to sit on the ground. The second he was free, Mr. Stark collapsed to the ground with a groan. Peter watched as the man flopped over onto his back and closed his eyes, chest still heaving.

He thought about asking Mr. Stark if he was ok again but he didn’t think the man would appreciate it.

“Let’s never do that again.” His mentor said after he’d had a couple minutes to rest and catch his breath.

“Agreed.” Peter said, leaning against the tree trunk behind him.

Mr. Stark turned his head and squinted at him. “How’s the leg?”

He shrugged. Terrible, but he wasn’t about to tell the other man that.

“Great.” Mr. Stark closed his eyes. “Just give me a minute and we can—”

The snap of branches interrupted whatever his mentor had been about to say. Mr. Stark shot to his feet, something Peter didn’t think he would’ve been capable of a second earlier. Peter hurried to stand on his good leg, using the tree behind him to push up. Mr. Stark moved to stand protectively in front of him, and Peter was about to protest the obvious babying when the person making all the noise burst through the forest into sight.

“Rhodey.” Mr. Stark greeted his friend with relief. “What took so long?”

“You never make it easy Tones.” Rhodey complained with a shake of his head and a smile.

Mr. Stark let out short laugh. “I don’t make it easy? You couldn’t have gotten here fifteen minutes earlier?”

Peter grinned.

“Why?”

“Never mind.” Mr. Stark waved a hand dismissively. “Just get over here and help me with the kid. He’s hurt.”

“What happened?” Rhodey asked and hurried over, no longer smiling.

“He had a little disagreement with gravity.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I sprained my ankle. Mr. Stark’s overacting. As usual.”

Rhodey knelt down and examined his ankle, pressing in a few different areas. He sucked in a breath when the man’s fingers ghosted over a particularly tender spot.

“Yeah I don’t think that’s just sprained.” Rhodey decided and stood back up. “Let’s get you back to the Quinjet.”

“The EMP didn’t reach it?” Mr. Stark asked.

“No we must’ve been far enough away. Is that what happened to your suits?”

They both nodded.

“Bad luck.” Rhodey said.

“Parker luck.” Mr. Stark muttered with a grin.

Peter shot him a fake glare.

“Ready to go?” Rhodey asked.

Peter nodded.

Rhodey turned so his armored back faced him. “Hop on.”

“Again?” Peter asked in disbelief. Two piggyback rides in one day. He was never going to live this down.

“What do you mean again?” Rhodey asked. Right, he didn’t know about that.

“Nothing.” Mr. Stark said quickly and gave him a look that meant they weren’t going to speak of it.

“Right. Nothing.” Peter climbed onto Rhodey’s back.

“I’ll be right back.” Rhodey told Mr. Stark as soon as he was situated.

“I”ll be right here.” His mentor gestured to area around him with a smirk.

They took off into the air.

“So, Tony gave you a piggyback ride, huh?” Rhodey said, clearly amused.

“How did you—”

Rhodey burst out laughing.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhump #irondad

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arrow-guy · 4 years

Text

Broken Flock (5/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Hello, hello, we return with a new episode of Disaster Boys and their Winged Friend. We’re picking up right where we left off last time. Please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Warnings: Heights, falling

Part 4

“You sure you’re alright staying behind?”

“(Y/N), I’ve already told you, the two of you need some time outside of the city.” Clint pushes Bucky and I out the door. “Get your asses upstate and get some fresh air. If you’re back before dark, there’ll be consequences.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Consequences? What’re you gonna do? Spank us?”

Clint grins. “Don’t tempt me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around my waist. “We’re leaving.”

“Good.”

“We’ll pick up a couple of pizzas on the way home!” I add before Bucky can get me too far down the hall.

Clint shouts his approval and Bucky shakes his head. The smile on his face betrays his annoyance and I laugh. Bucky gives me a half-hearted glare and reaches over to take my hand.

“You think this is hilarious,” he grumbles.

“I think it’s hilarious that you refuse to smile in public.”

“We’re in a hallway.”

“And you treat it like a public space!”

"Other people live in this building, (Y/N), it's not just us!"

"Is this the moment when you finally admit you live here, too?"

“How is that what we were talking about in any way?”

“You said us when you were talking about who lives here, not just Clint and I!” I poke him in the side. “You live here too. Admit it.”

“I’m not admitting anything.”

“Seriously?” Bucky rolls his eyes and moves in front of me to walk down the stairs. He doesn’t let go of my hand. “Bucky, you have spent more nights in either my apartment or Clint’s since I moved back in. You live here.”

“I don’t pay rent. I don’t live here.”

“Then you’re a squatter. A really well-paid squatter.”

“You’re an awful person.”

I hummed. “I know, but you like me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

I cackle and follow him down the last few flights of stairs. We load up our bags, the picnic basket, and the umbrella Bucky wanted into the back of the car. The umbrella tries to escape a few times and Bucky has to climb into the car and hold it in while I close the back hatch. Once it’s secure, Bucky helps me get into the car by, first, laying the back of the passenger seat down flat. I tuck my wings as tightly to my body as I possibly can and lay down on the passenger side and Bucky buckles me in as soon as I settle. I pillow my hands under my cheek and wait for the car to warm up so that we can leave.

“You look comfy,” Bucky says.

“This sucks, and you know it,” I grumble.

He laughs. “Maybe.”

As soon as we’re out of the city, Bucky reaches over to me and I take his hand. He softly tells me to get some rest and that he’ll wake me when we reach our destination. I do my best to stay awake as long as I possibly can, I eventually nod off and sleep for about an hour and a half before Bucky gently shakes me awake. It takes me a moment to wake up and realize where we are.

“We’re here already?” I mumble.

“Mhm.” Bucky squeezes my hand. "Come on. Let's set up."

I nod and unbuckle my seatbelt. I open the back passenger door and crawl out across the back of the car seat. I shake out my wings as soon as my feet hit the grass and stretch my arms over my head. I pop my back all the way up and down my spine and I sigh loudly. It takes me a moment to register that Bucky’s driven us out the literal middle of nowhere and parked at the edge of a massive grassy field. Behind us stands a giant wall of trees and beyond that is miles of rolling hills and fields of grass, rippling in the wind. I look at Bucky and grin. He smiles and shakes his head before jerking his chin at the back gate of the car. I grab my bag and the umbrella and trail after Bucky while he looks for the perfect place to set up.

After wandering around for nearly five minutes, Bucky finds a spot he likes and spreads out his blanket. I open the umbrella and drive the stake into the ground at one corner of the blanket. Bucky immediately stretches out across the blanket and I lay on my stomach in the sun beside him.

“Seriously?” he asks.

I shrug and spread my wings. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to do this.”

He shakes his head. “You’re nuts.”

“Not all of us have metal arms, Buck. I'm not gonna burn myself if I sit in the sun for a bit.”

"You could still burn," he mutters.

I hum and fold my arms under my chin. "Worth it."

He shakes his head. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Someone has to be, and seeing as Clint’s not here, I’ve gotta pick up the slack.” Bucky laughs and I smile. “How’d you find this place, anyway?”

“Stark moved operations upstate for a while. Things got loud and crowded so I left and drove around for a bit. Found this open field and filed it away for later.”

“Have you brought Clint out here yet?”

“No, not yet. He doesn’t need quiet like we do.” He takes my hand in his when I reach out to him. “He’ll get his turn at some point. But today it’s just you ‘n me.”

“I’m kinda glad it’s just us today,” I confess. “We don’t get a lot of time alone together, what with you living at the tower.”

“I know. I get sucked into a lot of work with Steve.” He sighs. “I love him, he’s my best friend, but he’s such a fuckin’ work-a-holic. Acts like he’s still got shit to prove, even though he ‘n Tony are probably two of the most respected people on the planet.”

“Well, you know how it went the last time I tried to talk him into taking a vacation.”

“You jumped out a window.”

“He started having a panic attack thinking about the paperwork that could potentially pile up while he was gone.” I sigh. “I worry about him sometimes.

“Don’t worry about him too much. Sam and Rhodey have been helping more, recently. Rhodey is great with the leadership stuff, and Sam is the perfect backup when training starts getting a little out of hand.”

“That’s good.”

“Stark’s talking with that Pym guy to see if he’ll loan his guy to us for a while.”

“Scott, right?”

“Yeah, gave Sam a hard time a few years back, but…” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, “We’re not supposed to know about that.”

I laugh and he turns his head to grin at me. “And how do you know this?”

“Confidential, sweetheart.”

“Aw, Buck, come on!”

He laughs. “I was going back through old security tapes a while back and found the feed.”

“Putting all that training to good use, I see.”

“I gotta find my fun somewhere, (Y/N).”

“And you’re not one to go tugging on Clint’s pigtails, or anything.”

“Nah, he’d like it too much.”

I giggle. “Probably.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Anyway, Steve’s doing better than he was. Work might slow down enough that I could spend more time at the building with you guys instead of stuck at the tower. Well… more than just the evenings and the occasional weekend.”

“That’d be really nice.”

He nods and hums in agreement. His eyes flutter shut as he relaxes and I watch him doze for a bit before I pull my hand from his and wander out to the middle of the field. I close my eyes and tip my face to the sky, spreading my arms and wings, just to soak up the warmth. A gentle breeze kicks up around me and the faint rustling of grass slowly reaches my ears.

I sigh and begin to move my wings, lifting from the ground with each downbeat. When I can see nothing but the tops of the trees and the rolling hills of the countryside, I angle myself and fly in several wide, lazy circles over the field. Bucky and his umbrella are little more than a speck on the ground below when I circle back around the fifth time.

With one strong stroke, I break off from my course and glide out over the treetops. I climb higher and higher through the clouds until I can’t see the ground below me. I relish the strain of the muscles all up and down my body, groaning through months of disuse, but pleased to finally move after being stuck on the ground for so long. Up in the clouds, I swear I can breathe a little better than I could not even ten minutes ago. My head is clearer than it has been in nearly a year. I feel wonderful. Wonderful enough to pull my wings in tight against my back and free fall through every single inch of cloud cover before unfurling them and gliding out over the countryside.

I do a few loop-the-loops and have to pause after to shove my hair out of my face. Embarrassed, I glance around and laugh when I realize that absolutely no one could’ve seen me.

I take off again, dipping down below the clouds, only to find that I’m in a completely different place from where I started. I squint at the surrounding area, searching for any kind of defining landmark, and immediately backpedal when the Compound comes into view. I angle my wings into a sharp turn and take off in the direction I came from.

I figure I’m home free when I see the umbrella and I put on an extra burst of speed in an attempt to reach Bucky faster.

“Long time no see, (Y/N)!”

I jerk my head from side to side in an attempt to figure out where the voice came from. A second look over my right shoulder reveals Sam, slowly emerging from some kind of cloaking shield. Startled, I forget to move my wings and Immediately lose altitude.

“Fuck!” I yell out, flailing my arms as I plummet to the earth below.

I manage to roll and face the sky and I take several deep breaths to try and calm myself. When I open them again, Sam is diving, arms outstretched in an attempt to catch me. His yells reach my ears and I pull my wings tight against my body, arch my back and flip myself to face the ground once more. About fifty feet before I hit the ground, I snap my wings open and streak across the field. Sam pulls up just in time to avoid crashing into the dry grass below.

I bank sharply and land a short distance from Sam. Anger rises in my chest and I ball my hands into fists.

“What the fuck was that, Wilson?!” I shout. “Are you trying to fucking kill me? If I had something on me right now, I’d throw it and your head!”

"I am so sorry, (Y/N)," he says, hands raised in defense. "I didn't think you'd get spooked like that."

"You were cloaked. How the hell was I supposed to know you were there?"

He freezes. “I… I don’t know.”

I let out a frustrated yell and, with one strong stroke of my wings, I send him tumbling to the ground with a massive gust of air. I storm off in the direction of the car shouting back at Sam each time he tries to defend himself.

“Come on, (Y/N), it was an accident! I’m trying to apologize.”

Bucky lumbers over, raking his hands through his hair. “What’s going on?”

“Sam just about killed me,” I grind out.

“What?”

I fold my arms and shake my head. “I got distracted and didn’t realize how far I’d flown and wound up a little too close to the Compound. I got out of there as fast as I could, and I thought I made it. But Sam followed me all the way back and decided to do so cloaked-” I look back and Sam and glare. He has the decency to look guilty. “-And startled me bad enough that I stopped flying. I fell a few hundred feet before I could get my bearings and get my wings out again.”

Bucky looks past me at Sam, brows pulled together in a scowl. “What the hell, man?”

“Look, something appeared on the scanner, I had to go check it out. How was I supposed to know it was her? We didn’t even know she was back in town!”

“Yeah, but you figured out it was her, right? Why would you follow her back after that?”

“I don’t know. None of us have seen her in two years, man. I guess I wanted to make sure it was actually her.”

“You could’ve done that from a distance, Sam,” I counter. “You know I’m not a threat. Scaring the shit out of me put us both in danger.”

“You’re right.” Sam looks between Bucky and I and sighs. “I’ll get outta your hair.”

“I hope this doesn’t end up in a report, or something,” Bucky says.

Sam laughs. “Don’t worry, it won’t. My lips are sealed.”

I give him a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it, (Y/N).” He lifts off the ground and grins. “I’d hug you, but I’m pretty sure you’d just punch me.”

“Damn right I would,” I mutter. Bucky laughs and bumps his shoulder against mine.

“See you next week,” Bucky calls.

Sam nods and Bucky and I watch him disappear into the clouds. Bucky sighs and shakes his head and leads me back to the umbrella, muttering to himself about hating his job. I slip my arm around his waist and tell him he doesn’t hate his job, he just really enjoys his time off.

We spread out on the blanket and eat our lunch. We don’t talk much and I take off to fly again when I’m finished. I stay much closer this time, choosing to just do laps around the field instead of exploring like I had been earlier. Instead, I content myself with doing different aerial maneuvers and buzzing by the umbrella every once in a while.

I fly for another three hours before I get tired. I drop down in front of Bucky and he cracks one eye open to look up at me.

“Done?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I know Sam said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but I can’t help being a little paranoid,” I say. I offer him a hand up and he takes it.

Bucky yanks the umbrella from the ground and shrugs. “I’d say that’s just smart thinking, on your part.”

I hum and begin packing things back into the picnic basket. I shake out and fold up the blanket and tuck it under my arm as we head back to the car.

“Did you at least get to relax a little?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah. I think I napped most of the time.”

I laugh. “Good.”

Once everything is packed in the car, Bucky helps me back into my seat. The interior is warm and my overworked muscles are crying out for me to rest. The hum and rhythm of the car isn’t helping my case much, and I grow drowsy the further we drive. Bucky takes my hand as I begin to doze off.

“Did you have any kind of fun today?” he asks.

“Mhm.” I nod and squeeze his hand. “Gonna be sore in the morning.”

"Sounds like you had a really good time, then."

"Yeah." I nod off for a moment, but suddenly remember something. "We gotta get pizza on the way home. I promised Clint."

"I know, sweetheart, don't worry. We'll grab a couple'a pies on the way back into town."

"Okay."

I sleep the entire way home.

Bucky gently shakes me awake when we arrive and I groggily crawl out of the car. I grab the bags from the bar and Bucky shakes his head when I reach for the umbrella and picnic basket. He gestures for me to follow him into the building and we trudge up the stairs to Clint’s apartment. Lucky is at the door as soon as we’re inside and Clint barely looks up from what he’s doing when Lucky barks and announces our arrival.

“What’d I say about coming home early?” Clint asks. “It’s not even dark out yet!”

I shake my head and drop the bags near the door.

“(Y/N) got a little too close to the Compound and Sam followed her back after she got picked up on the scanners,” Bucky explains.

“He decided to surprise me and I nearly fell to my death.” I grab plates from the cupboard. “So there’s that too.”

“Holy shit,” Clint says.

“Yeah… But we have pizza.”

Bucky holds up the two boxes and Clint grins and clears his arrows from the coffee table.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you guys around.”

I roll my eyes and hand him a plate. “There’s more benefits to us than pizza.”

Clint flips open a box as soon as they’re on the table and takes three slices. “Right now, the main benefit is pizza.” He leans over when I sit beside him and kisses my forehead. “You’re still pretty great without it, though.”

“Aw, thanks, Clint.”

We eat in relative silence, doing our best to ignore Lucky’s pleading looks, though Clint gives in and tosses him his own slice. Bucky admonishes Clint but Clint just laughs and jokes about throwing Lucky another slice.

When I finish, I lean forward on the table, stretching the muscles all up and down my back. Clint reaches over and presses his knuckles between my shoulderblades, gently massaging away the steadily growing soreness. Clint and Bucky talk between themselves and I watch as Lucky climbs into Bucky’s lap and curls up.

I smile and listen to their conversation and let their voices and Clint’s hand on my back lull me into soft relaxation.

---------

Part 6

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Time - h.rj ; Part 5 of 6

Pairing - Vampire!Renjun x Reader

Genre - Suspense/Action

Warnings - Vomitting, blood, vampire activities, violence (this one is brutal)

Summary - Vampires are creatures forced to walk upon the earth for longer than humans could possibly imagine. One would think it gets boring after a while, but not to Renjun, the foreign exchange student who seems to know a little too much about the early twentieth century.

Word Count - 3.5k

A/N - this chapter is really rough, it was a little hard to write but I desperately want to finish this series already adlhfgsk. I placed a warning bar with emojis before all the heavy stuff happens so if you don’t want to read it, just continue scrolling until you see the ending bar with the same string of emojis // @serenejaemin this is the chapter with the little stargazing scene i mentioned a while ago

After spending your first week in Jilin getting to indulge yourself in touristy activities as a way of learning more about the city, the place where Renjun grew up, you decided that you’d like to enjoy human life just a little bit longer. There were still so many things you wanted to do and Renjun had no problem in allowing you to fulfill your desires, as long as he was right by your side through it all. The only one who complained was Chenle, to which you responded “you can wait a few more months. It won’t matter once we’re like, a hundred years old, stupid.”

Summer flew by and you began seeing posts from your friends about how they were all going back to school, having their first day of college, or starting new jobs and it reminded you of when you first met Renjun only a year ago, not knowing how different your life would be just a few months later.

Speaking of which, your one year anniversary with him was coming up and he had asked you what you wanted to do, the fact that he even kept track was surprising to you, the shock evident on your face. “Love, I may no longer keep track of my own age, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still keep track of our time together” Renjun stated, almost even offended that you’d dare think he could forget your anniversary.

You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, but suggesting that you just want to spend time with him doing something calming. Renjun’s eyes light up as he exclaimed “ah! There’s a park I always used to hang out at. Would you want to have an evening picnic there and stargaze after?” You were more than thrilled at the idea, knowing he would enjoy it too due to his little fascination for all things related to astrology.

As you were in the kitchen making your sandwich for the ‘picnic’, because it would really just be you eating, you overheard Renjun and Haechan talking in the hallway. You couldn’t entirely make out what you were saying but you picked up on “hunters out”, “new vampires”, and “the Union” as they spoke in agitated tones, followed by Haechan yelling for Chenle and Jaemin to come out from their rooms. You weren’t sure what was going on but you didn’t mind when the other three said they’d be tagging along on your date.

The sun had just set by the time you arrived at the park, painting the sky a beautiful mixture of orange, yellow, and pink. Renjun practically demanded that the other boys stay at the playground so they wouldn’t interrupt your time together, Jaemin and Chenle mocking his tone and laughing at each other as Haechan flopped down onto the grass.

You basically had to pull Renjun away from starting a fight with them while begging him to go with you to look at the stream that ran through the middle of the park. He gladly went with you after threatening to punch Chenle and he helped you find a nice place to lie down just a little ways off from the main sidewalk near the rocks that lined the edge of the stream.

Once Renjun was lying on his back with you cuddled into his side, he starting pointing out different constellations and telling you stories about them. He let out a laugh when you managed to trace the Big Dipper, one of the only constellations you were able to recognize. “That’s a cute name for it, though most people call it Ursa Major” he explained, smiling down at you.

The conversation eventually led to some of Renjun’s previous experiences in the other places he’s lived ranging from stories of when he first met Haechan in Korea to how annoying Chenle was as a kid when he briefly stayed in Beijing with Chenle’s family. He told you about the album of pictures he had of Chenle at home and pleaded with him to show you them, Renjun only caving when you starting blowing air on his neck, causing him to scrunch up as he cringed from the odd sensation.

As you celebrate your own mini victory, Renjun took this as an opportunity to get back at you as he began tickling you, your body flailing around under his strong grip. You were too busy in trying to get away from his torturous hands that you didn’t notice that you had shifted dangerously close to a cluster of rocks nearby, yelping out in pain as your arm slammed against one of them.

You sit up quickly, pulling your arm to your chest after noticing the little droplets of blood starting to form on the fresh wound. Acting on instinct, you immediately cover it with the shirt you were wearing, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Renjun let out a whimper as his eyes ran red and his fangs extended, the scent of your blood making him lose control over his vampire instincts.

Before you could even begin apologizing and find something to bandage yourself with, you heard a gasp from the main walkway, only about ten feet away from you and Renjun. You looked over and saw the figure of a boy approaching you. He had a thing frame, similar to Renjun but he was just a little taller and slightly more broad. He was wearing a red flannel over a white shirt along with light blue jeans with a black baseball cap which hid most of his face from your view.

As the stranger continued to come your way, Renjun closed his eyes and tried to force his fangs to retract, scared that this person spotted his vampire features. You were already mentally preparing yourself for the worst-case scenarios.

What if this guy is a hunter? Were there more hunters nearby? Would they think you’re a vampire too because of Renjun’s scent clinging to you? Could Renjun handle one hunter on his own? Or would you have to scream for Haechan and the other to come help?

❌🛑‼️warning: heavy stuff starts here‼️🛑❌

Your thoughts ran through your head and the only thing to pull you out of them was the piercing red eyes of the approaching stranger. They were like Renjun’s but brighter, even brighter than when Renjun fed from you, which was definitely not a good sign. Jaemin had once told you that the more hungry a vampire is, the brighter their eyes were. Renjun’s eyes were always a darker shade of maroon mixed with brown because you had set up a regular schedule with him, though when he fed, you noticed they’d turn brighter as he let his hunger take over.

The striking color of his eyes brought you back to your sense as you shook Renjun and forced him to turn around and look at the boy. Renjun turned around and let out a gasp once he saw what you were seeing, instantly moving to shield you using his own body.

“I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it, I’m losing my mind.” The stranger said as he continued his advance upon you. In less than a second, Renjun had the boy pinned to the ground as he yelled for Haechan. You were frozen in shock, too scared to move, especially when the larger boy was able to easily toss Renjun off of him, as if Renjun’s superhuman strength had no effect on him.

What happened next was all a blur to you, everything moving too fast for your eyes to process. You were only able to catch the red of the stranger’s shirt as he used his speed to attack you the second he had effortlessly thrown Renjun aside. All you felt was the familiar feeling of fangs sinking into your neck along with an electrocuting type of pain, causing you to let out an ear-splitting scream.

You felt a burning sensation traveling from his fangs into you, spreading all throughout your body as you finally registered what was happening and mustered all your strength to try pushing him away, even though you knew your efforts were futile. You knew something was wrong because Renjun’s bites never felt like this, they felt like little shots, never this mind-numbing pain that was coursing through you as your mind began to dissociate from your body.

Everything was starting to slow down as you saw Renjun getting up and running at you, slamming himself into the boy on you, bouncing off as if had hit a wall. You saw the other three vampires in the corner of your vision as they sprinted across the field, panicking as the assessed the situation, not sure of what to do.

You were already past feeling lightheaded, it felt like you didn’t even have a head anymore as the stranger kept taking blood from you. The more he took, the stronger he got. This much was evident to you as his grip on your shoulders kept getting tighter, feeling like your bones were about to snap.

None of the pain went away when his body was finally yanked away from you, bringing into view a faint outline of Jaemin and Renjun pushing the unknown vampire to the floor as Haechan came to stand over you. Your ears were ringing and you were barely able to hear anything, only catching Haechan’s voice as he turned around to yell something at the others and Chenle’s voice shouting a name as you watched the world slip away from under you. Mark Lee.

You woke up in Haechan’s arms as he carried you with your chests together, your legs wrapped around his waist and your chin thrown over his shoulder. You opened your eyes, which you quickly realized was a mistake, everything around you is just a blur as Haechan ran as fast as his power allowed him to.

Your body was beyond overloaded. You felt yourself burning, your mind feeling as if it were floating away off your own neck making you so nauseous that you couldn’t help it when your breath caught in your chest and you threw up over Haechan’s shoulder, your arms around him feeling all too weak.

The only thing your remember is Haechan’s voice in your ear, “you’re going to make it Princess. We’ll be home soon, you’re going to be okay.” He didn’t sound even half as confident as the message of his words begged him to be. He was convincing himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.

You felt the weight of your own body as a second wave of nausea hit you, all your muscles tensing as you coughed up more fluids over Haechan’s back mere seconds before you blacked out again.

The next time you came to, you were immediately met with the refreshing feeling of something cold all along your back, pressing against you until your mind was able to register that you were lying down on something. You didn’t care what it was, only that it felt nice against your burning skin, all the pain throbbing from where your neck met your shoulder, right where the bite was.

You try to raise your arm to touch it but your movements are restricted by some kind of binding holding you to the table. Your eyes open, annoyed by your lack of freedom, and you’re blinded by the bright lights above you making you even more aware of the migraine you had and causing you to throw up again, just barely able to turn your head to the side in time. You look down at yourself, your body strapped down onto a silver metal table, your clothes still covered in blood and dirt.

You knew where you were and you could hear Haechan speaking anxiously though you couldn’t hear another person around, figuring that he must be on the phone. “I can’t. No, I can’t do that. I don’t want to be in charge of another one.” A few seconds pass before you hear his voice again. “What do you mean you’re not going to come back in time? Mark’s bite was that strong?” His question filled with both shock and fear though you took note of the new name, assuming he was the one who attacked you. “Renjun I told you, I don’t want to...She’s your mate,” the mere mention of his name making you feel calmer as his smile flashes through your mind, “I- fuck okay fine I’ll do it. Just don’t get mad at me when you regret this decision later.”

His footsteps rang out through the room and he sighs as he saw your state, fresh vomit covering your chest and the table, dripping down onto the floor. You felt his presence next to you as you hear him sit down onto the wooden stool you remember seeing the first time you were in this room.

“I just spoke with Renjun. He wants me to turn you...right now.” Your eyes flew open as you turn to him about to yell something out of bewilderment but your mind was moving too quickly for you to form any coherent thoughts. “Princess, you’re going to die if I don’t and I don’t want to lose you. Neither does Renjun.” He admits before continuing, “you’ve wanted to be a vampire for a while. I know it’s earlier than expected and definitely the way we all planned, but this is a matter of your life and death, y/n.” He told you, his red eyes meeting yours.

You could tell he wasn’t joking around just from the tone of his voice, but when he calls you by your name instead of calling you Princess, the reality of everything suddenly hit you. A tear slips out of your eye as you turn your head, tracing the lines on the ceiling as you croak out a simple ‘okay’ to him.

You watch through barely open eyes as Haechan comes to stand over you, biting open his own wrist and bringing it to your mouth. He grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, separating your lips enough for his blood to drip down into your mouth, the sour acidic taste making your face scrunch up in disgust. “Swallow it.” He commands, his voice is lower and more authoritative than you’ve ever head.

As you force his blood down your throat, he bites into you right next to your first marking, making the pain flare up again. You didn’t think it could be any worse than it was earlier, but you were wrong. You began writhing in pain and screaming until your head felt like it was going to burst, the only thing proving you were still alive was the feeling of Haechan’s hand on you. He places it on your forehead, applying pressure that momentarily made your headache less severe as he massages your temples, though the relief was short-lived.

His hand travels down your arm to your hand, letting your grab onto him and use him as your own stress ball of sorts. You squeezed his hand so hard it causes him to wince though he doesn’t make any effort to pull away, only whispering out “I’m so so sorry Princess. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

❌🛑‼️heavy stuff ends here‼️🛑❌

You can’t tell how much time goes by, your body continuously feeling as if you were being bathed by flames, your head much too heavy for your neck to raise, any movements at all warranting another round of brutal suffering against you. You want to curl into a ball and claw your skin off to rid yourself of the pain.

You’re so wound up by all the pain that you barely even notice Haechan’s hand leaving yours, being replaced by a smaller, much more familiar one until you hear “Oh, angel, my love.” Your eyes slowly flutter open, knowing better than to blind yourself from the lights this time, and you find Renjun’s face over yours. Even though he appears upside down, you’re still able to let your gaze rake over his face, taking in the features you adore so much being covered in scratches and bruises.

You want to ask him to kiss you, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a cry of pain. Renjun’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he bites into his own wrist and bring it to your mouth, just as Haechan did. You refuse to drink his blood, not wanting to go through another round of pain, moaning as the motion of turning your head makes the skin around the bites flare up, sending more waves of tension up to your head.

“Love, please let me help you. I promise you, it won’t hurt. You were never supposed to be in pain.” All you can do is let out a heavy breath as you surrender to Renjun and wait for him to connect his wrist to your mouth, though it never comes. Instead, you’re met with the feeling of his lips against yours, his tongue gently pushing its way into your mouth as you part your lips, allowing him access. You feel a liquid flow over your tongue, a sweet flavor coating your mouth leaving you wanting more of it after you swallow it.

When Renjun pulls away, you realize it was his blood that you just drank, the addictive taste of it being the exact opposite of Haechan’s. You felt the pain start to fade, one of the powers you knew vampire blood had. As you prepared yourself to be plunged into another world of torture when Renjun moved to press his lips against your already abused neck, you feel him shy away only to press another kiss to your mouth, his lips lingering as he said, “It’s you and me against the world, angel. Only us from here on out.”

He sunk his fangs into your neck and you instantly relaxed as the familiar tingling sensation washed over you, the cooling effect covering you like a blanket, almost ridding you of all the pain. It takes a while for the euphoria to wear off, which you are more than thankful for, as it finally allows you time to think clearly and recollect yourself. “What did he do to me?” You ask Renjun, not sure whether you’re referring to the incident in the park or to Haechan, so he just tells you the full story.

“Mark, the guy from the park, is a newborn vampire, only a couple of months old. He didn’t have any training whatsoever and hadn’t fed since he was turned which is why he lost control so easily when he smelled you.” He explained to you, running a hand through your hair affectionately.

You leaned into Renjun’s hand, causing the corners of his lips to turn upwards in a faint smile. “Is that why his eyes were like that?”

Renjun nodded at you before continuing on. “When I was fighting with Mark, he entered his survival mode so that’s why he couldn’t control his venom from entering you while he fed. He unintentionally turned you...sort of.”

“Sort of?” You echoed.

“He’s a newborn so his venom isn’t as strong as someone older like me or Haechan. It’s not strong enough to fully turn you but it would have been enough to start the process of turning you, leaving your body in a state of half-human and half-vampire. Your body would have worn itself out fighting from both sides which is why Haechan had to fully turn you before you got stuck.”

“Why weren’t you here?”

“I had to bring Mark into The Union for assaulting someone because the others are still too young to do it themselves.”

“Why did it hurt so badly? I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt?”

“It hurt because Haechan is not your mate, darling, I am. It wouldn’t have hurt if I turned you. I know you’re still in pain right now, it’s from Haechan’s blood running through you. Please don’t be upset with him, it wasn’t his choice. It wasn’t any of our choices.” Renjun’s gaze shifts away from yours as if lost in thought. “How are you feeling?”

You try to wet your throat, feeling like it only gets drier and drier as more time passes. “Tired...thirsty as well.”

Again, you watch as Renjun bites open his wrist, though this time your gladly lick the blood from his skin, relishing the soothing effect it had on you. “Sleep, my love, your body needs it.”

Renjun leans down to kiss you once more, his fingers intertwining with yours. He sits down next to you, as you allow yourself to fall into slumber for the last time.

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Falling Apart: Part 1

Part 5 of the Dark Side Logan series.

Roman goes for a walk in the imagination to try and clear his head. Things do not go well.

Ao3

He's in the imagination. Where else would he be, after all?

Not his room, where his thoughts spiral out into fantasies and daydreams, not the commons, waiting for a splash of blue that's never coming, not even his own side of the imagination, where everything is too bright and cheery.

No. It's darkness and quiet and solitude he needs, so he's crossed the boundary lines into Remus's territory.

The trees’ spindly limbs stretch up and up, tangling together in the canopy. Dark eyes seem to glow, staring from hollows and underbrush, soft cackles and rustles echoing from nowhere in particular. An owl hoots ominously, and he shakes his head with a fond smile.

If the others think he is one for clichés and exaggerations, then they don’t know Remus. He prides himself on his work, maybe more than he himself does, every detail must be perfect down to a T. He wonders how long was spent writing his song, how many times did he rehearse it, perform it, force Deceit to listen to it, until he was sure it was ready?

Oh, Remus may be darker than him, sure, and much more impulsive, with much more dangerous ideas, but he is still Creativity, still takes pride in every being and mote of dust he conjures, still thrives on other's approval.

Something he was guilty of denying him far too many times. How long has it been, since Remus barged into his room, face aglow, hands gesturing wildly as he spouted off his newest genius idea, because he just had to share it, right that instant? When did he stop smiling fondly, asking questions, instead of being cold and dismissive? And why? Why did he change in the first place?

Just another crime to add to his list, he supposes, wincing.

It's his own ego, or rather, lack of one, he supposes. All flaunt and flounce, no actual substance. Always afraid, of being disliked, of being unneeded, of being unwanted, of not being good enough. His own insecurities making him lash out at Remus, for fear of being replaced.

Lash out at Logan. For fear of being found irrelevant.

He winces again, replaying every snide remark, every mocking nickname, every time he shut Logan down or pushed him out, or pushed him away.

They had moments, sure, good memories, among the bad, discussing poetry, the rap battle, their shared appreciation of literature. But even he wasn’t fool enough to think the good outweighed the bad.

And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?

He knows the dark sides aren’t bad, or evil. He knows this intimately, because of Remus. Because Remus isn’t bad, and Remus had told him how Deceit takes care of him when he’s overwhelmed, how he used to soothe Virgil, kept the emo sane at all, when he was new and barely in control. And he knows Ambition is so far from evil, is so far in the right that he could never be bad.

If anyone is bad, it is him. He's been a bad brother, a bad friend, a bad family member. A bad person.

His shoulders drop even more at that thought, because it's true, and he deserves to be left behind, left alone, with his grief. It should be Remus's turn in the spotlight, he can imagine how his twin would thrive and glow off being center stage. It's not like Remus would be able to fuck up any harder than he already had.

He hears a hiss, and he freezes. He hasn’t been watching where he was going, merely wandering absently. Usually, creatures in the imagination left him alone unless he was actively questing. But this wasn’t his side, and it was the outskirts of Remus's. Any creatures here would be impossible for him to control, and nearly as hard for Remus to influence.

He steels himself and slowly reaches for his sword, pretending to be looking at his shoe. In one fluid motion, he draws his sword, holding it before him in a ready stance, eyes flashing with his blade as he looks up, assessing his foe.

And that is his first and only mistake he needs to make for his foe to hold all the cards.

Instantly, he is frozen in paralysis, ruby glimmering eyes all he can see, filling his entire world. His grip on his sword tightens, his knuckles going white with the effort of keeping it raised, keeping his stance, it takes all his will not to break under those eyes.

It is a Cockatrice. A feathered serpent. It trails poison in its wake, in its breath, in its being. Its eyes are hypnotizing, deadly, in some cases. This one appears to have a pointed stinger on its tail, venom dripping from its talons, its bright plumage screaming of danger, as it snaps its beak at him, hissing and stretching its wings.

They are a mesmerizing rainbow of color. They shimmer, flowing from fiery reds to deep ocean blues, enchanting and enticing, somehow promising everything he's ever wanted. He can see himself being lauded, being loved, Thomas being a star, and it brings tears to his eyes, how much it aches, stings, hurts, inside.

His sword has fallen from his hand, thumping softly into the underbrush. Distantly, he knows this is a mistake, he knows he should be fighting, but this warmth, this… hope is something he hasn’t felt in so, so, long.

Faster than his groggy mind can decipher, the wings flare shut. He stumbles, tries to dodge, but the beast is faster as the tail nicks his cheek.

He rolls, grabbing his sword, eyes averted as he swings, but is balance is wrong, his grip sweaty, and the beast screeches, making him clap his hands over his ears, it is deafening, echoing in his skull, staggering. Then there are talons pinning him to the ground, puncturing through his body, and he hisses, wriggles, but they just push him harder into the ground.

He gasps, vision flaring white, spasming as fire flares through his veins, burning him alive, from the inside out. He reaches up, scratching the talons, tearing at the feathers, at anything he can reach, feeling his own hands tearing into his skin, trying anything, everything, to get away, to get out, to make it stop, stop, STOP!

How funny, how silly, how utterly perfect, that he can’t do anything right, including saving himself from dying now. Maybe it’s better off this way, maybe they’ll all be better off this way. He can’t breathe, can’t even flail anymore, as he feels the cockatrice bite into his shoulder. His vision goes black and he screams, writhing and fighting and choking on bile before his throat closes up and everything stops.

…

Remus nearly screams, crumpling in two, hands clutching at his hair, the wash of agony is like nothing he’s ever felt, and it doesn’t take him even a second to know where it’s coming from. It vanishes as quick as it came, leaving nothing but a phantom ache behind.

“Remus.” Deceit is supporting him, keeping him from face planting on the ground as he regains his balance. He lurches to his feet, barely aware of Deceit asking him what’s wrong, of Cygnus placing a hand on his shoulder, having come in from the living room at the commotion he’d made nearly falling.

Instead he shoves past the two of them, sprinting to his room. He throws the door open hard enough it must dent the wall behind it, add a new crack to the wood, and he doesn’t even blink as he runs through the mirror that leads to his side of the imagination.

It’s stronger here, and he nearly keels over again, it staggers him, and he can barely breathe for a moment, before his vision clears. His mirror leads to his bedroom in his castle, and he runs, throwing open the balcony door. He’s not surprised to see her waiting.

“Hyacinth.” He gasps out, looking into the eyes of one of his closest friends, Roman’s favorite sparring partner, the Dragon Witch. Her eyes glitter like emeralds, two sets of leathery wings sprouting from her back, wearing a dark dress of glittering scales, knee high black boots.

“You feel it, too.” She states, and he nods, panic welling in his throat, any second he is going to scream, it is going to overwhelm him, it is going to crush him, because Roman is in trouble, Roman is hurt, Roman is hurt very badly and he cannot, will not, lose him.

“Find him. Please, we need to find him, I need to find him, I need to, have to…” He trails off, words becoming choked, vision becoming blurry, tears stinging his eyes.

“I know. All my dragons are out searching. Both your kingdom and his. As soon as they find anything-“ Her words are cut off by a distant roar. Her head snaps up, and she grabs his hand, vaulting over the balcony with him, onto the back of a dragon. He doesn’t protest, just holds tight to the spine spikes of the silver beast, almost numb, at this point, with fear.

They touch down what could be minutes or hours later, time has lost all meaning. He’s focusing too hard on his bond to Roman, which he can feel slowly growing weaker, which is bad, bad, bad. He’s begging him, pleading with him, bargaining with him, to hold on, keep holding on, please.

He’s across the space in moments, freezing as his heart leaps to his throat.

In the clearing is an orange ombre dragon, curled protectively around something on the ground. A bloodied, feathery mess is flung across, into the trees, barely recognizable as a cockatrice and his heart sinks to his feet.

“roman.” He gasps out, lurching into motion once again, the dragon uncurling slightly, allowing him entry, and he falls to his knees as he pulls Roman onto his lap, eyes roving over every inch of his twin, there’s blood, so much blood, too much blood, to be coming from Roman.

He can see where the beast pierced its talons deep into his flesh, can see the deep gashes across his chest where the creature must have raked him, there’s a chunk of flesh taken out of his shoulder, and saliva is foaming at his mouth, his face is drawn and pale, cheeks flushed, beads of sweat on his brow. His breathing is labored and shallow, he can hear him wheezing in, his chest barely moving up and down.

Oh, this is bad, bad, bad.

…

It’s cold.

That’s all he knows.

It is dark. It is cold. He is alone.

He deserves it.

That’s all he knows.

“roman.” Something. It jolts something in him, he knows that voice, but he isn’t used to it sounding so desperate, so afraid. He’s used to it being loud and proud and boisterous. Used to it laughing and cackling and spewing whatever words it can to make him blush like a tomato.

He feels something. Wind? Wind. Flying. Ah.

Hyacinth.

Remus? Remus.

It burns. Everything burns. Acid, eating him from the inside out, his blood corroding him, the air choking him, fire tracing itself across his skin, and he is shaking again, a choked sound escaping from his lips, as he coughs violently. He feels someone cradle him into a sitting position, feels something warm dripping down his chin.

“Roman. Roman, please. Please, please, please. Roman.” Remus. Something twinges in him at that, and he forces his eyes open, forces himself to look up, barely able to make out green eyes and white streaked hair.

“R… re…” He struggles out, choking on more blood, breathing feels unbearably impossible.

“heal yourself, Ro, come on, use your stupid Disney kids power, no blood allowed, right? No guts and fluids and… and death, right, Ro? You know I can’t heal, you know I would if I could but I can’t, so just snap those fingers and poof, back to normal!” His voice is frantic, bubbling with anxiety.

“C-an’t. N-not s-strong en-ough.” He forces out, eyes slipping closed. Everything is pain, every moment is pure anguish, and just wants it to end. “S-o-orry.” He gasps, barely feeling Remus’s arms hold him tighter.

“NO! You don’t have anything to be sorry for, don’t be sorry, don’t give up on me, and you don’t have to be sorry.”

His awareness slips away.

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soobiniebaby · 4 years

Text

Angels & Devils Part XV : It’s You

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Soobin’s breath catches in his throat as he absorbs the words on the screen.

Was Yeonjun really asking him to step in as B’s date? Suddenly, Soobin’s fantasies of having B as his date come flooding back to his mind, and he could hardly believe that most of it would be a reality. From him showing up at her apartment door to pick her up, to having their pictures taken together right as they enter the event hall, and maybe even up to how breathtakingly ethereal she’d look under the sparkling lights as they’d slow-dance in the middle of the dance floor.

The thought of his fantasies for the past few weeks becoming a reality made his cheeks heat up, and he takes a deep breath, quickly weighing the possible pros and cons of what could happen if he stepped in as B’s date in his mind, before he counts to three and sends his response.

Yeonjun’s request caught Soobin so off-guard that he wasn’t even able to mention why he messaged him in the first place. He sighs, tossing his phone down beside him on his bed, as he tries to get a grip on his thoughts, which were now swirling around with fantasies of B opening her apartment door and looking lavishly perfect in her dress, slow-dancing with B and taking pictures with her and sitting beside her at their table and—

Soobin shakes his head, trying to shake away such thoughts. B was his friend, and he would be there for her as a friend, only until Yeonjun arrives and takes his rightful place as her date.

He sighs again, his heart still pounding as he says “Alexa, lights off” before he’s enveloped in darkness.

•°•

B pouts, her whole lower lip sticking out as she looks up at her boyfriend with puppy-dog eyes.

Yeonjun frowns. “Baby, c’mon, please don’t do that. You’re too fucking cute, God. You’re breaking my heart.” he says, unable to stop himself from stepping forward and taking her face in his hands, his thumb gently rubbing on her lower lip as if he could erase her pout. “I wish I could skip it, trust me I do, but business is business, and you know how my father can get about things like this.”

B holds her pouty face for a moment longer before she sighs in defeat, realizing that she had no choice in the matter.

It was the morning of the Fall Ball, and when she heard someone ring the doorbell so early in the day, she was a tad annoyed that someone would dare bother her beauty sleep. Once she saw it was Yeonjun, she instantly felt her mood go from 0 to 100, happy to see him standing at her doorstep. But once he told her why he was there, her mood instantly went from 100 to 0 once again.

It wasn’t Yeonjun’s fault that his dad was a cold-hearted business-minded dick. She melts into Yeonjun’s touch, her eyes fluttering shut as his thumbs gently find their way to her jaw, lightly tracing patterns.

“Fine. I understand.” she finally says, opening her eyes to meet his. She lifts a hand up and cups it over one of his, entwining their fingers together. “But will I at least see you tonight? I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, and I wanna see your jaw drop once you see me in my dress.”

Yeonjun raises a brow. “How are you so sure my jaw will be dropping?”

B smirks, her eyes alight with mischief. “Well, first of all, it got Ryujin’s stamp of approval on the slutty-and-classy factor. And second, no matter how pretty and sexy I’ll look in the dress, I know that all you’ll be thinking about is how you’ll be taking the dress off.” she says, watching Yeonjun’s mouth drop at what she was suggesting.

“T—taking the dress off?” Yeonjun stutters, and B stifles back a laugh. She had never seen Yeonjun stutter before. “Me? Taking the dre—taking your dress off?”

B nods, and Yeonjun’s eyes widen. She grins devilishly. “I mean, if you can’t make it to the dance, we can always have a little after party of our own.” she says teasingly.

Yeonjun just looks at her in wonder, before shaking his head and letting out a chuckle. “Damn, Baby, you’re really something else.” he says, and she can’t help but hold back her laughter. “I just—I fucking love you, you know?”

Now it was her turn to go slack-jawed. “What? Wait, you what?” she says, not sure if she heard him right.

He laughs at her reaction and shakes his head once again. “I fucking love you, Baby. I love you.” he says, and when she remains frozen in shock, he says “I just wanted to let you know, and I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back, so you don’t have to.”

B nods, her tongue still caught in her throat as she tried to wrap her head around his words.

Yeonjun sneaks a quick peek at his phone. “Ah, I have to go, I have a video meeting with our Japan clients in 30 minutes.” When she remains silent in shock, he chuckles and bends down, planting a warm lingering kiss on her forehead. “My business thing will be starting at around 8PM, but I’ll try to ditch it early and if I’m lucky I can make it to the ball by 10PM, and I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll see you later, Baby. I love you.” he says, caressing her hair before turning away to leave.

As she watches him make his way down the stairs and get escorted into the car by his driver, she finally snaps out of her daze and feels herself smile.

“I love you too.” she quietly says into thin air, before she shakes her head, her cheeks hurting from smiling, before she closes the door behind her and prepares herself for a busy day.

•°•

That was 13 minutes ago.

Soobin sighs as he checks his phone one last time before he pockets it, his hands shaking as he does so. He holds his arms out as his sides and starts to flail them around vigorously, hoping to shake off the nerves. He takes a deep breath, stuffing both of his hands as deep as they could go in his coat pockets, and slowly counts to three before abruptly ringing the doorbell, holding his breath as he waits for a response.

“Soobin? Is that you?” B’s voice floats from inside the apartment.

Soobin forces himself to put on a smile, making sure to avoid tripping over his words as he says “Yeah, it’s me!”

“Hold on, I’ll be out in a bit!” she calls, and he hears some noises from inside the apartment, such as the sound of her running around and rushing to do whatever it was she was doing.

“Alright, take your time, I’ll be right here.” he says reassuringly, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He was just a friend picking up another friend to go to the dance together…as friends. Why was he so nervous?

Wanting to appear as casual and calm as possible, he decides to take his phone out of his pocket and feign scrolling or typing, just so that he wouldn’t look pathetic when she opens the door.

Once he hears her footsteps approaching, he holds his breath, and when she finally opens the door, he tears his gaze away from his phone to greet her.

And he nearly drops his phone, his jaw nearly dropping along with it.

A petite goddess stood in front of him, illuminated by the light pouring out from her apartment. Her long hair was parted to the side and framed her face with loose waves. Her eye makeup was done with simple winged eyeliner and long curled lashes, her face glowed and shimmered with highlight and bronzer, but her lips were painted a loud and eye-catching red, accentuating the cute little cupid’s bow on her upper lip that made them look irresistible.

But what really made him nearly drop his phone was her dress and how good she looked in it. No, how good it looked on her. Her blue dress fell off her shoulders, the flowy fabric leaving her neck, back and shoulders bare, with delicate satin trimmings all over. Her gown had a modest empire waistline yet had a surprisingly daring slit that ran all the way up her thigh, with satin trimming once again added in to balance out the look. She paired the dress with a pair of strappy heels that crisscrossed around her legs until just below the knees.

“Okay, I’m ready, let’s go!” she says, not noticing how he was ogling her. “Sorry if I kept you waiting out here, I didn’t know it would be this cold.” she says, rubbing her arms with her hands.

It’s only when the freezing cold autumn breeze hits him when Soobin finally unfreezes, and he snaps into action, taking his coat off and offering it to her.

“Here, you can use this to keep yourself warm.” he says, and before she can refuse, he slowly drapes it over her bare shoulders, careful not to ruin her hair or makeup as he does so. “At least until we get to the car.” he adds, once he sees the hesitance on her face.

She nods her head and smiles up at him. “Thanks, Soobin. 5 minutes in and already I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have you as my date.” she says, and he prays that it was dark enough so that she couldn’t see him blush. “Well, as my last minute date at least.”

Soobin coughs, trying to conceal his red cheeks. “Right, um, let’s get going then.” he says, leading the way to the car. He offers to hold the ends of her dress as they make their way down the stairs, making her giggle, and once he opens the passenger door to his car, he offers his hand to help her easily slide into the car. He closes her door and quickly makes his way to the driver seat. He hears her sighs in relief as he shuts the door behind him, the car heater kicking in as he starts the engine.

“Oh, that feels nice.” she says, putting her hands up towards the vents to defrost her cold fingers. “Again, I just wanted to thank you for doing this, Soobin. I know you didn’t really want a date to the ball and that you weren’t really interested in taking any girl from school to the dance this year, but I hope you’re not too bothered with having me as your last-minute date.”

You’re the only girl in the entire school I wanted to take to the ball. Having you as my date is the only thing I’ve been dreaming of these past few weeks. I wouldn’t trade having you as my date for anything else in the world.

As all these thoughts flood Soobin’s mind, he simply smiles back at her and says “No problem, B. I don’t mind it at all.”

Her eyes sparkle as she beams at him then, happy with what he said, and just like that his heart rate started to speed up once again. Tonight was gonna be a long night.

•°•

“Say cheese!”

“Sir, could you lean in closer, maybe put your arm around him?”

“Sir?”

Beomgyu hastily puts his arm around Taehyun’s waist, pulling him closer to his side as they posed for the photographers at the entrance of the event hall. “Tyun, are you okay?” he whispers, shaking him slightly.

“I…I’m, um, I think I’m feeling a bit shy.” Taehyun finally admits, his eyes darting around the area, which was quickly starting to fill up with students arriving with their dates, presenting their tickets and getting in line to have their pictures taken by the photographers before entering the event hall. Beomgyu had picked him up from his apartment, being the perfect gentleman, and they had arrived at the dance a little early so that they could do a few last minute checks around the venue before most of the guests start to arrive.

Whenever he and Beomgyu were together, he simply felt happy. It was just the two of them, talking and laughing as they always did, except now there was some handholding and kissing in between. And when Taehyun asked Beomgyu to be his date, he was simply happy about the thought of going to the Fall Ball together. But now that they were here, together, as dates, Taehyun was starting to realize that he hadn’t exactly thought the entire thing through.

He didn’t think about the stares they’d be getting, or the confused looks that would come their way when people saw them together, or about the excited whispers that would start whenever people spotted them walking hand in hand. And now that he was seeing it, he was starting to feel shy. He didn’t know what it was like to be in a relationship, and frankly he wasn’t used to the attention that came along with it, especially since his partner just happened to be one of his best friends, and his co-student council member. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the pair of them would receive so much attention, but Taehyun was surprised nonetheless.

Beomgyu chuckles. “You, Kang Taehyun, are nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.” he says, leaning in so close to whisper in his ear that Taehyun could feel his breath lightly tickling his neck. “Why are you nervous?”

“I guess I’m just not used to all the attention. I’ve never been in a relationship, so I don’t know how to act around you now when people are watching.” he says, his eyes catching random glimpses of stares aimed at them.

“Ah, of course it’ll come with a lot of attention, silly. Especially since you have me, the elusive and charismatic Choi Beomgyu by your side.” Beomgyu says teasingly, and that was enough to earn a small smile from Taehyun.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Taehyun says, feeling a bit more relaxed.

“And you’re adorable.” Beomgyu says, causing the younger boy’s cheeks to flush.

“Perfect! Hold that pose!” the photographer exclaims, seeing that Taehyun looked more relaxed and natural now. He quickly holds the camera up and points it towards them. “1,2,3, smile!”

As the flash goes off, Taehyun feels himself smile, and he feels Beomgyu’s arm around his waist tighten just a bit more before the photographer says “Excellent! Thank you, and enjoy your evening. Next!” signaling the end of their turn.

Taehyun lets a small sigh, feeling himself relax, as Beomgyu takes his hand and pulls him forward, finally stepping through the giant double door entrance and into the event hall.

“Wow, you guys really pulled out all the stops for this one.” Beomgyu comments as they take in the room. It was spectacularly designed with rows and rows of fairy lights hanging across the ceiling, with curtain lights lining the walls. The ceiling itself was barely visible as the entirety of it was shrouded with different fall flowers such as Dahlias and Begonias, with balls of autumn leaves hanging as well, some occasionally falling down and letting the room rain with autumn leaves.

“You mean we really pulled out all the stops?” Taehyun says, raising a brow. “Have you forgotten that you’re actually a part of the student council or do you really not pay attention during our meetings?”

Beomgyu laughs. “I do, trust me, but I didn’t know it would turn out looking like this! It’s amazing.” he says, still in awe.

Taehyun can’t stop himself from smiling, feeling a sense of pride. “I helped choose the flowers. Now let’s go find our table, the others might be waiting for us already.” he says, now leading them towards their assigned table, which was conveniently situated near the side of the event hall, closer to the stage and the side entrances so that they as student council members would have easy access to any backstage problems.

When they arrive at table 21, they’re surprised to see just 2 people sitting there. Soobin and a girl. The girl was sitting with her back to them, and all they could make out was that she had long dark hair that fell down her back in waves.

“Huh, is that Soobin? Who’s he sitting with?” Taehyun asks once they spot the table from 10 feet away.

“Maybe he caved and got himself a date at the last minute. I mean it’s not like it would be hard for him to find one on short notice.” Beomgyu muses. “I wonder who it is.”

Once they arrive at the table, Soobin’s face lights up as he sees them.

“Gyu! Tyun! You’re finally here.” Soobin says. “Take a seat, Kai and his date should be here soon too.”

Beomgyu raises a brow at Soobin’s smiley demeanor, but takes a seat nonetheless, but not before he pulls out a chair and offers it to Taehyun.

“Ah, you didn’t have to.” Taehyun says, though the pleased smile on his face betrays his words.

“Hush, shut up and let me be your perfect date. I mean, you’ve been dreaming of this for a year now, right?” Beomgyu says teasingly, laughing when Taehyun gives him an annoyed look.

“Soobin, seriously, I swear I’m gonna kill you for saying that.” Taehyun says, shooting daggers at the boy. But before Soobin could respond, his date turns in her seat to face the two boys, and their jaws drop as she does so.

“Yeah, remind me not to spill any of my secrets to Soobin either.” B says, coming face to face with Taehyun and Beomgyu.

“B?” Beomgyu asks, surprised. “Are you Soobin’s d—Where’s Yeonjun?” he stutters.

B laughs out loud at Taehyun and Beomgyu’s confused faces. “Oh, sorry, I guess we never got to tell you!” she giggles. “Um, Yeonjun’s dad forced him to go to this business party thing at the last minute, and I guess he sort of assigned Soobin to look after me. Until he gets here, at least, he said he’ll try to cut the party early so he can catch the end of the dance.”

Taehyun raises a brow. “Oh, what a shame.” he says, his words directed at Soobin. “How inconvenient is it that you’re stuck with Soobin as your date now.”

B nods “Luckily Soobinie’s very kind and he accepted, although I’m trying to be as less of a burden as possible.” she says, laughing as she rests a hand on Soobin’s arm.

“Very lucky.” Beomgyu says, smirking at Soobin behind B’s back. “I’m pretty sure Soobin won’t see you as a burden though, he is very lucky to have been blessed with the opportunity to have you as a date tonight.”

“Aw, thanks Gyu, you’re so sweet.” B says, looking at him in awe. “Tyun, is he always this sweet? You two are so lucky to have each other.” she says, looking between her 2 friends lovingly. When the guys told her the news, she was so happy she started to cry. After all those mornings she spent walking with Taehyun to school, she never would have imagined that he would have feelings for someone like Beomgyu. In the dynamic of their friend group, the 2 of them stood at opposite sides of the spectrum, yet they worked perfectly well together, like blue orangeade.

“I have to admit, the idiot has his moments.” Taehyun says rather lovingly in contrast to the nickname he had given him. “Speaking of idiots, where’s Kai? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

And right on cue, Kai and Yuna come stumbling up to the table, both of them in a fit of giggles as they try to seat themselves, abruptly stopping once they noticed there was 1 empty chair.

“Hey guys, who’s not here ye—” Hueningkai starts, but once he sees B next to Soobin, his confusion further grows. “What’s going on here? Where’s Yeonjun?”

B and Soobin explain the situation once again, and Kai and Yuna nod understandingly.

“I never knew Yeonjun’s dad could be so harsh.” Yuna pouts. “I’m sorry about that, B. But hey, at least you’ve got another handsome guy to keep you company tonight.” she says, winking at Soobin. “Let’s try to enjoy it anyway, alright? And I’m sure Yeonjun will do anything to see you tonight.”

B nods in agreement, happy that she had her friends with her to keep her company. Maybe her night wouldn’t be a total bust.

Just then, Soobin holds her hand under the table, squeezing it comfortingly. She looks at him and sees him smiling at her. “Don’t worry, we’re right here for you.”

She beams at him and squeezes his hand under the table, entwining their fingers together. “Thanks, Soobin. Really. It means a lot to me.”

And just like that, she knew it was going to be a good night. With or without Yeonjun.

•°•

The night had kicked off with a bang. The council had hired a DJ and opened up song requests so that students could hear their desired songs along with personalized dedications all around the event hall, students from the Theatre club had been assigned by the student council to host the event. Designated different clubs within the school were tasked to present special numbers at hourly intervals throughout the night. The Theatre club had done a short improv scene, picking random students in the audience to participate, which earned many laughs from the crowd. The Photography club had been going around and taking polaroid pictures of the students. The Film club has been documenting the night on video and will be showing a short highlight reel by the end of the evening.

But now, it was the Jazzed club’s turn.

Soobin nervously walks across the stage, the spotlight trailing him as he makes his way to the center, adjusting the microphone stand higher to match his height before he starts.

“Hey guys, how’s everyone’s evening going so far? Is everyone having fun?” Soobin says, pleased with himself when the event hall booms with cheers from the crowd. “That’s good to know. On behalf of the student council, I’d like to acknowledge the participation of everyone here tonight and for everyone who couldn’t make it, without all of you, this event wouldn’t have been a success, so thank you.” he says, earning cheers from the crowd once again.

He flashes a charming smile as he continues. “I know that this evening has been a blast so far, but how about we slow things down a little bit…” he says, and right on cue the selected members from Jazzed club goes on stage and starts to prepare their instruments, which gets the crowd cheering again. “Coming right up, we have a special performance by MO Academy’s very own Jazzed club!”

Soobin takes the mic in his hands and starts to walk around the stage, approaching each person one by one to introduce them to the crowd. “Here, we have our student body’s precious Public Relations Officer, Kai Kamal Huening, tickling the ivories!” he says, putting a hand on Kai’s shoulder as the younger boy plays a few keys on the piano, making the crowd cheer.

He moves on to the drum set. “On the drums, we have Yoon Dowoon! Drop us a beat, please!” he proclaims, and Dowoon follows suit, showing off his skills.

“Isn’t he amazing, folks?” Soobin asks the crowd, making them cheer in response. “Next up, we have Nam Donghyun playing the Bass!” he says, motioning to the bassist as he plucks a few strings.

“On guitar, we have our student council’s very own Treasurer, Choi Beomgyu! Show us what you’ve got, Gyu!” Soobin says, dramatically doing a very bad air guitar impression in contrast to Beomgyu’s slow acoustic guitar. Soobin laughs as Beomgyu shakes his head.

“And last but not the least, our vocalist for the evening, the one and only Kang—” Soobin begins, ready to introduce Taehyun, until Beomgyu grabs the back of his suit, tugging him to his side as he quickly whispers in his ear.

“Taehyun can’t do it, he’s dealing with a crisis with the security team.” Beomgyu explains hastily.

“What! Who’s gonna sing then? Can you sing and play the guitar at the same time?” Soobin asks, trying to keep a smile on his face even though he was panicking on the inside.

“I don’t memorize the song, just the notes.” Beomgyu says. “But why don’t you sing? It’s not like you haven’t sang in front of an audience before. And you have no excuse not to sing, because you wrote the song.” Soobin couldn’t think of an excuse to get himself out of it, because Beomgyu was right. Soobin had been working on the song for a couple of months now, but he never intended on singing it himself, especially not in front of a crowd, and especially not in front of her.

Before Soobin can protest, Beomgyu quickly takes the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, our vocalist for the evening, the one and only Student Council President, Mr. Choi Soobin!” he proclaims, making the crowd cheer as Soobin practically chokes on his own saliva, taking the microphone back from Beomgyu.

“I—uh, yes!” Soobin says, quickly gathering his thoughts, not wanting to look unprofessional in front of the whole school. “Our first song tonight is a special composition by the Jazzed club! Composed by Kang Taehyun, and lyrics by Choi Soobin.” he says, letting the cheers from the crown die down before giving the band the go signal.

The lights dim as the song starts with a slow intro from the drums and the piano, and the spotlight focuses on Soobin as he starts to sing.

(ORIGINAL SONG: Look After you by The Fray) [some lyrics changed by author for story purposes] “If I don’t say this now, I will surely break As I’m staring, your hands I want to take I look on breathlessly, my knees they start to shake My heart has started to separate”

As he sings, he remembers all the moments he caught himself staring at B, and all the times she made his heart speed up just by looking at him, and all the instances where simply seeing her took his breath away, like when he picked her up at her place for the dance that night.

“Oh oh, be my baby oh Oh oh, be my baby And I’ll look after you.”

He sees her in the crowd then, sitting by herself at their table, her chin resting on her hands as she watches the band play on. Her eyes meet his and she smiles, giving him a small wave. He’s unable to stop himself from smiling back, his heart pounding in his ears.

“If ever there was any doubt My love, she’s looking at me Her smile gives me security Her love rings with clarity”

He’s watching her watching him now, her head nodding along to the gentle beat of the song, her eyes bright as she claps with the crowd and cheers him on.

“Oh oh, be my baby oh Oh oh, be my baby Oh oh It’s always have and never hold You’ve begun to feel like home, yeah What’s mine is yours to leave or take What’s mine is yours to make your own”

He wrote these lines after the night of Yeonjun’s birthday, when he saw her a crying drunken mess on the closet floor and realized that he would do anything for her. It didn’t matter if she was his best friend’s girlfriend or if she was the girl he was in love with, it didn’t matter if she was drunk and crying or sober and laughing. To him, he was B, one of the few people in the world he held closest to his heart, and he knew he would do anything for her.

“Oh oh, be my baby oh Oh oh, be my baby Oh oh”

As he sings the last lines of the song, he feels his face start to heat up as the audience begins to cheer louder, a bit shy now that he had sung his song in front of the whole school. Singing a song he wrote in front of the person he wrote it for was something he never anticipated he’d do, but upon seeing her eyes, as bright as ever, focused on his face, he would’ve written a million more songs and sang them all to her if it meant she’d look at him like that every time he did.

When the audience starts to die down and the couples on the dance floor start to return to their seats, he spots Taehyun running to towards the stage, waving his arms at Soobin, signaling that he was there and that he could take over.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that song was called ‘Look After You’ written by yours truly, composed by Kang Taehyun, and performed by MO Academy’s Jazzed Club. Let’s give another round of applause!” Soobin proclaims breathlessly, his smile widening as the crowd starts to cheer. He quickly motions Taehyun to come on stage, relieved that the younger boy was there. Soobin didn’t think that he could sing the rest of the songs on the setlist without any practice.

“And now, here to take us away with a voice as cool as the Fall breeze and visuals as refreshing as Autumn leaves, let’s give it up for Kang Taehyun!” Soobin announces, arm outstretched towards the boy who was now making his way across the stage.

“Thank you, everyone.” Taehyun says, smiling as he catches his breath. “We’ve got a great set prepared for you tonight, so grab your partners and prepare to swoon as we start with a song called Autumn Leaves by Ed Sheeran.”

When the next song starts to play, Soobin makes his way off the stage, his body still humming with adrenaline from singing his song on such short notice. As he makes it off stage and finds his way back to his table, he receives a few compliments and pats on the back from his fellow students, telling him he did a great job on the Fall Ball and gushing over how beautiful his singing was. He acknowledges them bashfully, his face heating up more and more by the second, until he finally makes it to his table, which was occupied by no one but B.

She starts to clap as soon as she seems him approaching, shaking her head in approval, legs crossed casually. “Wow, Choi Soobin. I’ve been told that you were a bit of a songwriting genius, but I didn’t know just how much of a genius you were until now. You definitely live up to your hype. Well done.”

“Oh stop it, you’re only saying that cause I’m your friend.” He smiles shyly as he takes his seat next to her, mindful of the absence of their other table mates. “Why are you alone? Where are our fellow table 21s?”

“Gyu, Tyun, and Hyuka are all onstage and will remain onstage for at least 5 more songs, and I’m guessing Hyuka’s date is off somewhere with Ryujin.” she says, referring to Yuna. “They invited me to hang out with them while you were all onstage, but I didn’t really feel like taking shots of the Tequila that they smuggled in at one of the bathroom stalls.”

“Is that what they’re doing?” Soobin says, raising a brow. “You do remember that I’m the Student Council President, right? Doing something like that could get them suspended!” he exclaims.

B laughs lightly. “Oh, I don’t think I could ever forget, Mr. President.” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “And yes, I am well aware of that, but I trust that you won’t bust them anyway because although you have responsibilities, you’re not a fun-sucker either so as long as you trust that they know their limits, you’ll just be keeping a stern eye out instead of busting them.”

Soobin sighs. “You’re right, I guess you know me too well.”

B nods. “Yes, and I happen to know that you haven’t had the chance to break out some moves on the dance floor all night.” she says, exasperated. “C’mon, Soobinie, you should dance! I know you don’t have a date and I’m just a sort of last minute engagement, but you could ask literally any girl here to dance with you and I just know that they’d practically pee themselves with glee as they drag you to the dance floor.”

Soobin laughs. “That’s absurd.” he simply says, and she shrugs. It’s quiet between them for a moment, they watch the couples on the dance floor until the song comes to an end and a few of them make their way back to their seats while the others stay on the dance floor and give a round of applause to the Jazzed club.

“Thank you, thank you.” Taehyun says, his voice reverberating through the event hall. “Now for our next song, no high school dance would be complete without one of the most iconic high school prom songs in the cinematic universe of Young Adult movie adaptations. As seen in the Twilight saga, this is Flightless Bird, American Mouth.”

“B?” Soobin says, turning to face her as Taehyun sings the first line of the familiar song.

“Yes?” B asks, her eyes focused on the couples dancing in front of them.

“I know that I’m just a stand in until your real date arrives and that Yeonjun will probably be here before the Fall Ball ends, but do you wanna dance with me?” Soobin says in one breath. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I think it would be a waste if you just sit here all night. I mean, I’m not saying that your night will be a waste or anything or that you’ll just be sitting—”

B silences him by standing up and grabbing his hand, forcing him to stand up. “Like I said, Binnie. You could ask literally any girl here to dance with you and they’d practically drag you to the dance floor.” she says, beaming as she drags him through the throng of people until she finds a vacant spot near the stage.

“Didn’t you mention something about peeing themselves with glee—?” Soobin begins, but she shuts him up by putting a finger up to his lips, which catches him by surprise. He remains frozen as she guides his hands to her waist and she reaches up to rest her hands on his shoulders, her neck outstretched as she looks up at him.

“Just shut up and dance with me, Choi Soobin.” she laughs, which causes him to unfreeze and sway along to the music.

“You know you have 4 different names for me?” Soobin says out of nowhere. “You’ve called me about 4 different names just now.”

“What?” B asks, curious. “No way! How can I possibly have 4 names for 1 person?” she says.

Soobin bites his bottom lip thoughtfully before answering. “Well, you call me Soobin on normal occasions, Soobinie when you wanna ask for a favor so you act all cute, Mr. President for when you’re teasing me about anything school or council related, Choi Soobin when you’re either impressed by me or annoyed by me, and sometimes you call me Binnie, though I’m not sure why just yet.” he says. “Oh, that’s 5 names!”

B looks at him, incredulous. “Wow, I’ve never really noticed.” she says, amazed. “Anything else I should know about myself?” she asks teasingly.

Soobin stays quiet in thought for a moment before the words come pouring out. “You fiddle with your pens when you’re bored. When there’s something on your mind, your eyes dart all over the place as if you can see your thoughts out in the open. You make this face when you’re tired and cranky.” he says, his eyebrows pulling down and his cheeks puffing out as he pouts, mimicking her expression.

B chokes out a laugh. “No, I don’t!”

Soobin smiles at her fondly. “Trust me, you do! Um, what else? When you’re excited about something, your eyes sort of just light up and you practically bounce in your seat. When you’re nervous, you have a tendency to tap the tips of your toes on the ground. When you’re shy, you usually end up hiding your face with your hands—”

“So do you!” B interrupts.

“I know I know, let me finish!” Soobin laughs, his breath shaky now. “You’re a straw-biter, so you hate metal and paper straws cause they’re no fun for you to bite on but you use them anyway cause you wanna save the sea turtles. Your usual order at Kang’s café is a large peppermint mocha iced latte which you usually don’t end up finishing so you have it packed in a paper coffee cup and give it to the homeless man who begs right across the street along with whatever change you have in your pocket. When you’re happy, you sing out loud and your voice when you sing is soft and sweet and if I could, I’d record it and play it as a lullaby on nights when it’s particularly hard to sleep.”

B laughs, in awe of everything she was hearing, not noticing the way he was looking at her now. “My voice as a lullaby? It’d be like being serenaded by a banshee!” she exclaims jokingly. “What nights do you find it particularly hard to sleep, then? What causes your sleepless nights? Is it school? Is it stress? Is it a girl? When do you have sleepless nights?”

‘On nights when all I can think about is you.’ Soobin thinks to himself, but he just smiles at her warmly.

Before he can respond, the song ends, and the couples on the dance floor break away from each other and focus on the stage to cheer on the Jazzed club.

“Alright, this one’s for all those friends-to-lovers out there who were able to let love bloom from friendship, or for those who are still friends but would rather be lovers, this is your opportunity to get out of the friend zone!” Taehyun says, pointedly glancing towards Soobin. When he realized that B was with him on the dance floor, his eyes widened and he gave Soobin a wink, causing the older boy to blush. “This song is called Sweet Night by V.”

As the next song starts with a smooth acoustic intro, B turns to Soobin once again, not noticing how flustered he seemed to be. “Hey Binnie, you down for round 2? Or we could go back to the table if you don’t feel like dancing, I know you don’t like crowds.” she says, referring to them being in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by couples who were starting to get very close and intimate with each other.

Soobin looks at her and shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind dancing with you again.” he says, and her eyes instantly light up, causing his heart to flutter. He didn’t want to admit it, but slow dancing with her was a bit of a dream come true for him.

“On my pillow”

She smiles up at him, and he offers his hand with a flourish, causing her to laugh as she takes his hand in hers, once again positioning them on her hips before she reaches up to lay her hands on his shoulders as they start swaying to the music.

“Can’t get me tired”

B leans forward and closes the distance between them, burying her face in Soobin’s chest, and he could only pray that she couldn’t hear his heart pounding through his shirt. “Hey, Soobin?” she mumbles, her voice muffled.

“Hm?” Soobin responds, trying his best to control his breathing and regulate his heartbeat, afraid that she’d be able to hear it with her head pressed against his torso.

“Do you remember the night of Yeonjun’s birthday party? When I was crying on the floor and you saw me?” she asks.

“Sharing my fragile truth”

“Yes.” Soobin says. How could he forget? That night, he had let his walls down and let slip just a sliver of what felt like truckloads of emotions he felt for her. She had practically told him that she would have chosen him over Yeonjun if it were an option, and that the prospect of them being together wasn’t just a fantasy. “What about it?” he asks, as casually as he possibly could.

“That I still hope the door is open”

B sighs, keeping her face hidden from him. “It’s just, is there really nothing more that happened that night?” Soobin had to lean down to hear what she was saying. He didn’t know why, but she seemed to be hiding her face in his chest. “Ever since that night, I’ve been feeling a bit…different, I guess?”

“Cause the window opened one time with you and me”

Soobin gulps. “What do you mean? Different how?”

“Now my forever’s falling down wondering if you want me now”

“Well, I don’t exactly remember much to be honest.” B admits, her voice still muffled against his chest. “But I remember you and me sitting on the cold floor, I remember I was crying and that my heart hurt, I remember you being right beside me and leaning on your shoulder, I remember saying—”

“Saying what?” Soobin asks, wondering why she cut herself off so suddenly, and wondering where this conversation was going.

“How could I know one day I’d wake up feeling more”

‘Maybe it should’ve been you, Soobin.’ Her words echo again in her head. Ever since she had that dream, or rather that flashback, he had been feeling different. As if her heart and body remembered something that her mind didn’t about that night. “I remember saying that I felt hurt.” she says instead. “I dunno, I guess I just feel weird because I don’t remember everything. I’ve never been blackout drunk before, so it’s really strange for me.” she says, chuckling lamely at herself.

“But I had already reached the shore Guess we were ships in the night Night, night”

Soobin remains silent, not really knowing what to say. They simply sway to the music then, under the soft glow of fairy lights, with autumn leaves and flowers occasionally falling with every gust of the chilly autumn wind that blew into the venue.

“I'm wondering Are you my best friend?”

B did feel like she had been closer to Soobin lately. She didn’t know if it was because her childhood friend, Kai, had been busy with his relationship lately or if it was because Yeonjun was closest to Soobin. But she knew that ever since that night, she had been seeing him in a different light, as if she knew she could tell him anything and he’d bring her a sense of comfort no matter what the situation. She just didn’t know why.

“Feels like a river's rushing through my mind”

Soobin’s heart starts to race as he tries to figure out why she had suddenly brought up the topic of that night, and suddenly he feels guilty once again, remembering seeing Yeonjun’s lips crash against Rose’s. He felt his stomach lurch at the memory, but he knew he couldn’t tell B about it. It was Yeonjun’s responsibility.

“I wanna ask you If this is all just in my head”

B was starting to wonder if Soobin had felt a shift in their dynamic ever since that night as well. Did he see her in a different light after witnessing what a miserable drunken mess she was? Did he remember her telling him that maybe it should’ve been him, whatever ‘it’ was? Or has he always just been so caring and a good friend?

“My heart is pounding tonight I wonder if you are too good to be true”

Soobin looks down at B then, who still had her face buried in his chest, the fairy lights shining warmly above them giving her honey toned skin a gentle glow. As small flower petals continue to fall overhead, a few of them catch in her hair, making her look like some sort of ethereal goddess. She was too good for him, and too good for Yeonjun as well. He knew that.

“And would it be alright if I pulled you closer”

B’s hands fall from his shoulders and slip down to his chest. She finally looks up at him then and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re so tall, and my arms were starting to get tired. Do you mind if I keep my hands here?”

“How could I know one day I'd wake up feeling more”

When her eyes meet his, Soobin could swear that his heart was leaping out of his chest and right into her hands, one of which was situated directly above his heart. He nods. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

They spend the rest of the song dancing in silence. She rests her head against his chest once again, her cheek squished against his necktie, and his hands slowly wrap themselves around her waist comfortingly.

“But I had already reached the shore”

Suddenly, Soobin feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head and nearly jumps out of B’s grasp once he sees Yeonjun standing there.

“Guess we were ships in the night night, night”

“Excuse me, but may I interrupt?” he says politely. Upon hearing his familiar voice, B’s head snaps up and her eyes widen as she sees him.

“Yeonjun!” she exclaims, jumping out of Soobin’s arms. “Y—you’re here.” she says, caught by surprise.

Yeonjun beams at her then. “Hey, Baby. I made it right on time.”

B looks between the 2 boys for a moment, hesitant, before she walks up to Yeonjun and gives him a hug.

“Glad you could make it.” Soobin says, patting the blue-haired boy on the back. “Cleaned up pretty nicely, too.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Yeonjun says teasingly, making Soobin roll his eyes. He gives Soobin a quick one-armed hug. “Thanks for taking care of my Baby for tonight, Soob.”

“Don’t mention it.” Soobin says, smiling at him. “You 2 enjoy the rest of the night, now. I’ll see you back at the table.”

Yeonjun nods at him, meanwhile B’s staring at him the whole time.

Before he turns away, she takes a step towards him and reaches for his arm.

“Soobin, wait.” she says, catching the sleeve of his suit.

He looks at her over his shoulder. “Yes, B?”

As his eyes meet hers, she feels her breath catch in her throat. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Her mouth opened to speak, but her brain couldn’t think of any words to say.

He tries to decipher the look in her eyes then, as if she was trying to tell him something.

After a moment, she releases his arm. “I just wanted to say, um, thank you. For tonight.” she finally says, smiling at him, though it didn’t seem to reach her eyes.

“No problem, B. The pleasure was all mine.” he says, smiling reassuringly at her before he turns and makes his way back to their table.

B feels a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind, and Yeonjun rests his chin on her shoulder, whispering in her ear. “You wanna dance with me, Baby?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath before turning to face him, painting a smile on her face. “I’d love to.”

As they start to dance to the next song on the setlist, Soobin sits alone at table 21 and watches.

And he didn’t know why, but that last lingering look she gave him was stuck in his mind.

•°•

Author’s note: Here’s part 1 of the Fall Ball! But the real fun starts at part 2, next chapter. Just wanted to drop this before TXT’s comeback.

Watch out for MINISODE 1: BLUE HOUR coming out today at 6PM KST!

#tomorrow x together #txt #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun fic #yeonjun au #choi soobin #soobin #soobin fanfic #soobin fic #soobin au #txt fic #txt au #tomorrow x together fanfic #tomorrow x together fic #tomorrow x together au

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Two Sides of the Coin (20 - End)

Chapter 20: You Fit Right in | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT’S DONE!!! ;;A;; My longest fic to date and my very first fic with my own OC in it!! It’s been a wild, fun ride for me, but I’m really happy to see that many of you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖 I might take another break maybe a day or two before I finally work on the requests in my inbox. My irl workload has been doubled being the temporary stand-in for the absentee assistant 😅 I’m holding up okay in the office so I’m fine, good thing I have good outlets for stress relief so I'm able to cope well ^w^ If you enjoyed the story and went with it until the very end, A BIG, BIG THANK YOU!! I can’t wait to share more of my dear Jidné and new Cal x Reader fics in the near future 😉😊

Also in AO3

Also tagging @berenilion @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @stellar-trinity @justtinfoley @peterwandaparker @calgasm @cal-jestis @superwarsofthrones @calsponchoemporium @fallenjedii @sweeetteaa @ayamenimthiriel @queen-destenie

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 – 18 | Previous: Part 19 | Masterlist

20 of 20

Each Jedi blocked either side of the Sixth Sister’s double-edged saber, and—surprisingly so, for someone so lithe and slender—the youngsters were overwhelmed by the gradual weight taking over the both of them. If there was one thing that was both the Sixth Sister’s weakness and strength: it’s her temper. Her strength rooted from the vexation that Jidné’s taunt brought, then amplified by her tapping into the insidious fountain of power that is the Dark Side of the Force.

Gathering all of their collective might, Cal and Jidné finally pushed the Inquisitor away albeit a struggle to do so successfully. When the standing paces away from them, they afforded to catch their breaths.

“You might have hit a nerve right there, Jidné,”

“Go figure,” she shrugged casually.

The Sixth Sister’s entire personality changed—if they knew her initially as the suggestively mischievous Inquisitor, then it took a full 180 tunr for her to become a dark agent of the Sith, oozing with rage while flailing her saber against two redeeming Jedi Padawans.

Cal and Jidné put the tension between them aside just so they can properly work together in fighting against the Sixth Sister—whose strength was obviously better than theirs combined. This is where Jidné finally realizes what the Inquisitor meant by having better fights than them combined; tapping into the Dark Side of the Force could lead one to a path of many abilities some consider to be unnatural—and this mismatch of brute strength inside a lithe body was one of the many examples.

“Come on now, surely you can do better!” the Sixth Sister roared.

The pair of Jedi—as the battle against the frenzied Inquisitor dragged on—studied carefully her movements, strategized on how to exploit her weakness or her falters, and finally find an opening. While she’s still overly-strong for someone of her stature, the two Jedi studied the enemy’s form—from the widest swing down to the minutest flick of the wrist or change in the grip.

It was clear that the Sixth Sister isn’t bluffing—she never was, in the first place—and she had proven it otherwise through her prowess with her haloed saber.

The seconds felt like minutes as the three exchanged strikes, but the two Jedi held fast. They were especially persistent in getting the upper hand. Gradually out of steam rooting from the rage she uses as energy, the Sixth Sister’s movements have become sluggish—while Cal and Jidné afforded momentary breaths whenever they distanced themselves. Eventually, they got their own hits on her: Cal had jabbed her shoulder, thus leaving a red, burning crater on the flesh, and Jidné produced a searing gash from her abdomen to her thigh, cutting through the fabric of her right pant leg.

The Sixth Sister turned to the ring of Stormtroopers and Purge Troopers that surrounded them. She didn’t like the way the blank faces of their helmets stared at her. It’s like Vader had another set of eyes to watch over her every move, judging her, condemning her—and she had felt such a presence always looming behind. The fear that she’s been turning her back to has come to chase after her.

“Put those weapons to good use, imbeciles!” the Twi’lek Inquisitor snarled, obviously frustrated that her strength was close to outliving its usefulness.

It was the Purge Troopers who obeyed first—there were only two of them, however, they were the formidable Dual Wielder and the Electrohammer trooper. Finally, the Inquisitor afforded a moment to catch her breath and recover from the pain, stepping away while the Purge Trooper pair step in as her proxies.

“Well, finally!” the Dual Wielder snickered, the indigo electrical currents at the ends of his batons crackled with the same enthusiasm.

The Electrohammer Purge Trooper didn’t speak, instead asserted his dominance in this battlefield by pounding the floor with the pommel of his weapon—sending out violet tendrils of electricity sprawling on the floor and then die out seconds later.

“Dibs on the hammer guy,” Jidné blurted.

“Alright,” in a display of roguish cockiness, Cal rotates the center of his saber hilt—transforming his dual-edged saber into its split variant. “Then I’ll even this one out.”

Jidné stole a glimpse of Cal and smiled to herself, a nasal scoff coming out of her in reaction to his remark. Their arena just got wider as the Stormtroopers—who have a strange mix of admiration, envy, respect, and fear for the Purge Troopers as a whole unit—backed away and continued to watch while being on guard in case either Jedi tries anything—by their definition—bizarre.

“Pheh! You think having the same number of weapons as me would save you?!” the Dual Wielder.

“I can try!” Cal snapped back.

Underneath his dark helmet, the Dual Wielder Purge Trooper smirked—impressed by the Jedi’s snarky determination. He’d make his death as honorable as possible, the fighter in the jet black armor thought to himself as their distance hasn’t shrunk yet.

On the other hand, Jidné is up against the slow yet brutish slugger of a Purge Trooper. The oldest trick in her book would be taking advantage of his slowness, but seeing that this was a specially-trained soldier—particularly much more skillful than the standard Stormtrooper—underestimating his abilities would prove to be fatal for her.

Finally, each fighting pair touched weapons. The right saber would clash against the left-handed baton; the cleaving electrohammer nearly severed the blade of purple light. The surrounding Stormtroopers were actually glad that they have moments to spare by simply watching the fight ensue; however, majority of them were already preparing themselves for the Sixth Sister’s command on them to follow suit against the Jedi.

And speak of the devil, she did.

“Fire at will!” the Twi’lek roared at the white-armored riflemen, nearly straining her throat from her command.

One by one, they raise their blasters at the Jedi—who were excessively moving in all directions. It was difficult enough to get a clear shot, but the possibility of accidentally engaging into friendly fire would result to a beating from the Purge Troopers.

—–

Meanwhile, the Sixth Sister’s fear has been realized. While the Purge Troopers deal with the Jedi youngsters, her eyes wandered around the entire hangar—particularly at the windows of the bridges were commanders would keep post and watch from above. Only this time, it wasn’t an admiral keeping an eye on the Twi’lek.

A pair of Zabrak siblings, stand together in front of the window watching the skirmish below them. The eldest sister subtly kept her gaze on the hunched Twi’lek, anticipating whether or not she’ll return to action. On the other hand, her brother observed the dynamic of the fight—observing the Jedi pair, judging their forms and their coordination together.

“We might have a problem here,” the brother murmured, keeping it only within his sister’s earshot.

“I know,” she chided.

“Shall I inform him?”

In that moment, after the brother asked, by pure coincidence, it feels as though the Sixth Sister and the female Zabrak had locked eyes with one another, despite the tinted gray windows only showing a silhouette. The Zabrak woman’s shoulder flinched but suppressed it quickly by clenching her fists behind her back. The Twi’lek’s eyes remained on the commander center with the tinted window, incapable to see anything from her end but is being looked upon.

The brother verbally nudged his older sister with the same question.

The elder Zabrak sister paused for a moment, she made a quick sigh. Her eyelids dropped as she came to a short yet difficult deliberation with herself. She inched her head to her brother and gestured a small nod to him, prompting him to turn tail and leave the room towards the unspoken yet known destination.

Much later, the Stormtroopers joined the fray—but only at a safe distance—there were brave ones who dared to squeeze the triggers. Some missed, a few found a different mark, whilst a handful got banked by the Jedi—the latter slowly thinned out their numbers as Jidné and Cal traded blows with the Purge Troopers. This tactic of theirs continued until the Stormtrooper commanders donning the red-orange pauldrons motivated their men to continue attacking; the Scout Troopers who wielded batons eventually joined into the very complicated whirlwind of blades.

“I’ve had enough of this!” Jidné bellowed, kicking away a Scout Trooper about to attack her from her 6 o’ clock while waiting to catch her saber she just flung to her Purge Trooper.

Jidné crunched a button on her gauntlet and a tiny light glowed under the keycap. Even though the battle grunts, the threatening snicker from the Purge Troopers, and the blaster fire from the Stormtroopers drowned out any other sound in the hangar—the Crescent Scarab revving and warming up its engines prevailed.

Everybody—even the Twi’lek—stopped to turn their attention to the growing sound of a turbine’s whir. Jidné smirked when she noticed lights flickering in the cockpit—essentially bringing the Scarab to life—and the hydraulic steam sputtering out of the landing gears as they slowly fold into their respective hatches.

“There’s a good ol’ girl when I need it!” Jidné celebrated to herself.

While the enemy was distracted the freighter being remotely controlled by the girl, Cal and Jidné took them by surprise: Cal sent all troopers flying to the ground, flat on their spines, whilst Jidné darted towards the completely disoriented Purge Troopers lying down on the cold, black tile—the girl caught Cal’s second saber in her free hand and then drove both weapons in her hands into the jet-black stomachs of the Purge Troopers.

“NO!!” the Sixth Sister screeched, her mouth stretching into a roundness that showed off her fangs. Her awe-stricken eyes shared the same wideness as her mouth as she watched the Purge Troopers get eradicated by the blades of the supposed bounty hunter.

In the middle of the action, Jidné’s remote had commanded the Scarab’s armaments—an ion cannon on both sides—to turn and aim its barrels at the scene of the fight. At the corner of her eye, Jidné saw this and dashed towards the unaware Cal.

“CAL, GET DOWN!!” Jidné screeched as she tackles him out of the possible radius of the skirmish.

The Inquisitor saw it coming and physically dodged an enormous bullet—two at that—but the Stormtroopers weren’t as fortunate as the three of them.

Seconds after the shots have been fired, Jidné scrambled up to her feet—dragging Cal along with her.

“Come on… Come on!” she urged frantically.

Cal ran in front, Jidné continued to keep herself close behind his back. The redhead sprung from the hangar floor and grabbed onto the door frame of the Scarab’s entry ramp. All the color in his face drained when he saw that Jidné wasn’t behind him anymore.

The Sixth Sister had hindered Jidné in her tracks. The Twi’lek inflicts Force pull on the girl’s legs, causing her to stumble and make a desperate move to crawl away while her hands are still free.

“JIDNÉ!!!”

“MAN THE SHIP!!” cried Jidné as she squirms away from the Twi’lek.

“But…”

“JUST GO!!!”

Cal rushed to the cockpit and witnessed Jidné face off the Sixth Sister one last time before they make their escape. The dashboard dazed him for a few seconds but the redhead pulled it together and began flailing his arms across the control panel before putting his hands on the wheel.

Jidné took ID off of her person, commanded him to join Cal—even though the little droid was vigorously objecting the idea.

“Come on, ID, you have to help Cal and BD-1 in there! Do it for me!”

The probe droid lowed, but his trill was drowned out by the sound of the ship warming up its thrusters. He zipped towards the entry ramp that Cal intentionally kept open and finally rejoined the boy and his droid.

“You think that I’m going to let you go so easily!?” the Twi’lek boiled with a rage as hot as the red of her skin.

Inch by inch, she hauled the Jedi girl towards her and farther away from her own freighter. The floor squeaked as she continues to be dragged against her will, clawing the surface did very little to help her. The malicious grin on her face grew for each pull she made on Jidné.

“Don’t even bother squirming away!” hissed the Sixth Sister, using her other arm to inflict the same ability on Jidné—this time on her upper body. “I will not be the exact same failure as the Second and Ninth Sisters!!”

Halfway in, she brandished her saber with her good arm, closing in on Jidné.

“Now, your Jedi boyfriend’s gonna watch you die—and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

The female Zabrak who continued to watch slightly tensed when she watched the Sixth Sister get the upper hand: her eyebrows furrowed, her hand clutching the other behind her back tightened with anticipation, and held all the air in her lungs awaiting for some sort of satisfaction from this suspense.

“Come on, Jidné!” Cal spoke through the clench of his teeth.

But both the Zabrak spectator and the Twi’lek were caught off-guard by Jidné’s next move.

Jidné headbutted the Inquisitor hard on the forehead, disorienting the enemy and consequently losing her focus on the girl—who has afforded enough freedom to move around and retaliate with a Force push strong enough to stagger the enemy.

“What?!” the Twi’lek gasped upon witnessing her would-be victim break free.

Without wasting a single second, Jidné called her lightsaber to her hand and the purple blade obediently emitted out of the hilt by the touch of the switch.

“I don’t plan on dying—not here, not now!!” declared Jidné.

The Twi’lek snickered, “My, my, you have the pride of a bounty hunter but not the grit of one.”

“No,” Jidné slightly shakes her head. “I have the grit of a Jedi!”

The Sixth Sister and Jidné engaged in one last duel. Cal had already prepped up the ship and kept the Scarab warm, he carefully maneuvered the ship to face the exit of the hangar, but maintained a hovering altitude for Jidné until she makes a run for it.

Jidné did not spare any ounce of her might in battling the Twi’lek.

The rough-and-toughness of a bounty hunter manifested within Jidné as she cleaved her way through the Inquisitor’s defenses; but her elusiveness had the fluidity that of a Jedi, denying her enemy to deal a single hit on her and instead overwhelming the Twi’lek with attacks. The latter has started to regain her strength and finally equal herself to the young Jedi she’s fighting, but Jidné already has gotten a headstart in stealing the upper hand.

With their blades locked on to one another, the Twi’lek was taken aback by Jidné’s strength—it was something that she had never witnessed from any Jedi before—but the pain of her injuries had kicked in and betrayed her once more, slowly bringing her to submission as Jidné shifts all her weight on her blade.

The Inquisitor staggered as she receives a kick in the abdomen from Jidné, in the next blink of an eye—she didn’t feel its first moments—she felt the searing sting birthed by a lightsaber’s edge, cauterizing her flesh into an ugly curdle of dried blood on the wound’s surface. The pain caused her to submit to her knees; for good measure, Jidné pushed her away using the Force.

Before she was able to make her escape, the door behind the Sixth Sister whipped open and revealed Darth Vader—who has decided to take the matter into his own hands. Jidné felt her stomach drop to the soles of her feet upon seeing the Sith lord appear and take the Sixth Sister’s place in the duel.

“JIDNÉ, COME ON!!!” Cal barked, standing at the edge of the entry ramp waiting for her.

Cal’s cry to her snapped her out of frozen state caused by the fear of Vader who was seething with an immeasurable fury and unquenchable ferocity.

Jidné ran—as fast as her legs can carry her.

Her lungs felt sore as she caught her breath in every step. Never has she ever been so afraid to look back over her shoulder. Cal had reached out his hand for her and she extended her hand. Their fingers joined flimsily but unlatched as the Scarab continued its fly-by. Jidné pushes herself one last time and Cal caught her arm, gripping it tighter than never before and pulled her into the freighter.

“LET’S MOVE!!!” Jidné threw herself of the pilot’s seat and maneuvered the ship out of the hangar. Cal joined her in the co-pilot seat by her side.

The Scarab darted out of the hangar, the remaining Stormtroopers, maintenance crew, and deck commanders threw themselves out of the freighter’s path for their lives. Their departure was salt to the Sixth Sister’s wounds, watching them fly out of the volcanic wasteland greatly frustrated her—but also made her fear for her life.

Complete, sheer silence was the only thing that the Scarab seems to have left behind when it disappeared in the sky as it made the jump to lightspeed. Darth Vader’s cape billowed in the hot breeze that the Scarab’s mufflers blew as it left. Meanwhile, the Sixth Sister’s heart was rapidly beating—as if savoring its last few moments of doing so, because she knew perfectly well that there’s no escape from the Sith lord’s wrath.

“I almost feel sorry for her,” the Zabrak brother halfheartedly sighed, his older sister didn’t take kindly to the remark and decided to ignore him.

“My lord…!!” she cracked, disposing all of her pride and bringing herself further to the ground, as if praying to a deity. “Forgive me! Let me pursue them! I am perfectly fit to—!”

Vader raised a hand partially clasped. Her terrified stammering annoyed him; however, her voice persisted in uttering the words “Forgive me” through her gagging until a single crack of bone silenced her fully.

“You are forgiven, Sixth Sister.”

The dark lord of the Sith gazed at the now empty hangar, following the trail of the Scarab upon its departure. He stares at the grey sky that watches over his stronghold. Beneath that blank, emotionless demeanor is an anger that boils hotter than the magma that flows under the foundation of his castle.

—–

The Crescent Scarab cruises through the system where the hyperspace jump has led to.

The two Jedi finally had the opportunity to relax and catch their breaths. The lone captain of the Scarab sets the ship on auto-pilot mode as she waits for the adrenaline to subside.

Machine hums, droid trilling and beeping were the only sounds that filled the ship. There was still an awkward silence between the two Jedi. The girl was still unable to explain herself—the negotiation, her motives before and after she had the change of heart—even though she’s got a thousand words to say.

Jidné slouched on her seat, elbow propped on the armrest, and her forehead resting on the palm of her hand. Cal watched the slow rising and falling of her shoulders, the subtle shifts of her position in the chair, and watched how her eyes shifted while staring at the ceiling of her vessel.

Her arm reached out to the navigation computer on the dashboard and encoded a combination of numbers and letters. Shortly after that, the screen flashed a miniature preview of the planet that represented the grid coordinates she’s typed.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home,”

“You mean, we are going home?”

Obviously taken aback, Jidné turned her head to Cal to reaffirm what he meant with his emphasis on the word. She dismissed it when he didn’t get the hint in the first moment and resumed control on the ship. Cal volunteered to co-pilot with her and discovered that it was not really that different with the Mantis’s own controls.

ID-3 and BD-1’s collective beeping startled the Jedi youngsters and broke the silence. Jidné and Cal listened to their excited droids.

“From where we are now, we’re just an hour away from Ombari,” Jidné translated. “Wouldn’t want Cere and the others worry about you, huh?”

Cal detected a melancholic tone in her voice, the smile that she flashed in front of BD-1 quickly melted as soon as she faced the windshield again. He easily felt the bittersweet aura that she emitted as he studied her staring into space and the planets that they flew by. The redhead recalled her words when she set him free.

“Escape now, hate me later.”

He wanted to prove her wrong—prove that he doesn’t hate her anymore. How could he hate her if she’s practically saved their lives from a new Inquisitor and Darth Vader himself?

His eyes trailed to her fingers fiddling on the dangling accessory strand strung on the saber’s pommel. He notices that her fingers were staying on strand that he crafted for her, her thumb pushed each bead as if counting them one by one.

“Jidné,” he uttered, breaking the silence between them.

She turned to him, waiting for him to finish. Her fingers still playing around Cal’s flower beads.

“I want to thank you again,”

Forcing a weak smile, she sighed. “No need to thank me.”

“No, really, you saved my life. I was trying to make peace with the fact that I’ll die once they start trying to get anything out of me about the Holocron… until you came along.”

Silence again. There was nothing Jidné could think of to say back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said that you were gonna hand me over, until you decided not to anymore,”

She looked away, searching for the right words in the stars.

“Yeah, I did mean that. I simply didn’t think it was right anymore because, well... It’s…” she trailed off, tucking herself in her seat and drawing her leg up to the chair for her to hug it. “It’s a feeling I can’t explain. But you’ve every right to hate me because I didn’t tell you the truth sooner—I hate myself for the very same reason too.”

“No, Jidné, I don’t hate you,”

Her lips parted and she bit them, her grip on the steering wheel made the skin over her knuckles turn white as bone to hide the trembling. Cal’s only response was a deep sigh—he sensed relief wash over her, but it wasn’t enough to ease the guilt anchoring her heart.

They eventually arrived back in Ombari. They did so with the same awkward silence that never seemed to leave them until either of them swallows their pride. When they’ve cut through the atmosphere, the first thing Jidné did was search the Mantis’s signature on her radar; when a ping appeared on her screen, she steered the Scarab close to the other ship’s location. From the windshield, both of them saw Cere, Greez, and Merrin standing outside the Mantis as they watched the Scarab commencing its landing cycle.

When Jidné’s freighter touched Ombari’s soil once again, the crew’s gazes pierced through the thick glass of the windshield and Jidné couldn’t look away like some sort of self-imposed penance for her guilt. She leaned away and let herself sink into the cushion of the backrest, arms crossed and expecting Cal to move in her periphery.

“They’re waiting for you,” she muttered.

Cal didn’t budge. He remains seated on the co-pilot seat next to hers. They exchanged glances with one another and he finally stands up and leaves the cockpit. Jidné swiveled her chair, following Cal as he walks up to the door; she took a few seconds before following him there, discovering that he’s just standing in front of it—as if he had no intention to open it.

“You’re home, Cal,” urged Jidné who’s standing behind him, leaning against the wall opposite to him and having her arms crossed together. “Go on.”

She watched him raise his hand to the control panel, expecting him to press the button and walk away.

The exit ramp hissed open. Warm, gentle sunlight pooled into the vessel—dramatically different from the harsh heat that they were met with when they arrived to Mustafar. Cal stepped out of the ship, basking into the late afternoon sun, Jidné herself went out to fill her lungs with Ombari’s fresh air and warm light.

Cal reconciled with his crew. They welcomed him with hugs that included everyone—even BD-1—and then Greez’s “Where have you been?!” standing out of the indistinct yet cheerful chatter. Jidné watched the modest celebration from the doorway of her ship—the sight put a smile on her face, even if she had no part in it.

As she was preparing to disappear, going back inside her ship, she was stopped by the call of her name. She turned around to find Cal walking back up to her. He snatched both of her hands—taking her by surprise—when he got close.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere, I suppose,” she shrugged.

“I’d still want you around, Jidné. You don’t have to be alone. It’d be like what we talked about before—you and me, the Scarab and the Mantis. Together.”

There he goes again. Jidné sighed in her mind. Puppy eyes in the color of jade shined in front of her, she can feel his fingers running across the smooth skin of her hands.

She sighs, “Cal, I don’t belong here, not after what I’ve done to you.”

“They know.”

That left Jidné into a stammering mess, unsure whether or not to explain her story to the crew, but Cal kept reassuring her—in the kindest tone she’s heard from anyone ever—that he didn’t leave out her effort to save him in his story. She peeked over his shoulder to find the expressions of each crew member standing by the Mantis.

She chuckled humorlessly, “You don’t mind having a bounty hunter hopping into your party, huh?”

“Hey, adds up to the variety,”

Both of them shared a bashful chuckle and their foreheads touched; Cal hoisted a curled finger to Jidné’s cheek, brushing away a loose strip of hair that fell in front of her face and then caressing her cheek. He saw her face flush with color, he could feel the warmth burning underneath her skin. When their gazes locked at each other, time felt like it froze in place, and Cal slowly closed in on her.

Cal gently brushed his lips against Jidné’s. She was warm and soft. He dared to dip his tongue to explore her mouth, finally giving himself the guilty pleasure of her taste. The tip of her tongue ran across the tiny scar that ran across his bottom lip, feeling the slight indent on his mouth. When he withdrew, he followed it up by planting a kiss on her forehead before leveling his face with hers.

“Glad you didn’t stop me this time,” he whispered, the tips of their noses playfully touching.

“I didn’t plan to,”

Cal pulled her in close to him, the closest that both of them have ever gotten with each other, he wrapped his arms around the small of her back, lifted her an inch upward to the point that she had to stand tiptoed.

“Now you’re home with me too, Jidné,”

He whispers as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, in turn, he felt Jidné embracing him back—arms hooked around his back and her hands clung onto his shoulders, her cheek resting against his chest, and a sigh of the greatest relief escapes her mouth as she lets those words sink into her.

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robinskey · 5 years

Text

Don’t Touch My Family

Request: Would you be willing to make an imagine of dad!billy were after graduation u nd billy leave town bc u get pregnant w/out telling anybody but after a few years u have a son & daughter Neil finds out n come by the house hella pissed while billy isnt home, tries to hurt u nd the kids but billy comes home n just beats the hell out him for trying to hurt his family? just the thought of billy goin after the only person hes terrified of for HIS family makes him THE father he never had makes me melt ❤

A/N: This is a little bit darker than my typical fluffy sunshine fanfic, but I really liked the request, so I decided to do it anyway. :) Sorry if you wanted something shorter, anon-this turned into more of a drabble/one-shot than an imagine. Thanks for requesting!

Warnings: Teenage pregnancy, descriptions of violence, implied abuse, language

You find out you’re pregnant halfway through the last semester of senior year.

When you tell Billy, you expect him to freak out. He doesn’t, though-at least, not on the outside. On the inside, he’s absolutely panicking. But he can see how upset you are, so he just pulls you close. He whispers into your hair that he’ll support you in whatever you want to do.

After a few days of contemplation, decide you want to have the baby. You and Billy agree that it’s best to keep your pregnancy a secret-for now, at least. If your parents found out, your father would probably actually fire that shotgun he’s always threatening to use on “that deadbeat boyfriend of yours.”

And Billy...well, he has no idea how his father would react. But he has no intentions of finding out.

Thus, Billy offers to run away with you right there on the spot. However, you ultimately decide that it would be better to finish high school. Maybe you'll even be able to save up a little bit of money before the two of you start a new life together.

So, for the next few months, you wear baggy clothes to hide your growing midsection. Billy picks you up for “dates” that are actually doctor’s appointments. Thanks to your valiant efforts, no one suspects a thing.

Eventually, graduation rolls around. Your family hosts a small get-together after the ceremony. Distant relatives congratulate you on your achievements and ask if you’re excited to start this “new chapter in your life.” You smile and nod.

You have no idea.

Later that night, you stuff everything you can fit into a small tote bag. You leave an apology note to your parents on the kitchen counter and sneak out of your house.

Billy’s waiting for you outside in the Camaro. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead and holds the door open as you climb into the passenger seat. As he drives away, you watch your childhood home shrink into the distance, saying a silent goodbye to the only home you’ve ever known.

***

Five years later, you and Billy share a two-bedroom house on the West Coast. You have two kids-a son and a daughter. Billy works as a mechanic at an auto repair shop, while you write for the local newspaper. Neither of you make much money, but it doesn’t matter. You’re both happy-genuinely happy-for the first time in your lives.

Billy gets home around 5:30 every day, so, when the doorbell rings at 5:15, you figure he just got off early.

“I’m coming, honey!” you yell, bouncing your infant daughter on your hip.

But when you peek into the peephole, you discover not your husband standing on your doorstep but a scruffy older man in tattered clothing. His face is scrunched up, and he squints in the sun. You freeze, clutching your baby to your chest.

Neil Hargrove is standing on your porch.

“I know someone’s home. I heard you,” he barks. “Come on. Open up. I just want to talk.”

He raises a dirty fist and raps on the wood. The noise scares your daughter, who starts to whimper. You’re too busy shushing her to notice your son appear at your side.

“Mama, who’s that?”

You clamp a hand over his mouth and suck in your breath. Maybe, if you’re quiet enough, you can cancel out the noise made by your clueless four-year-old.

“Is that my grandson?”

For a split second, his volume dips below its typical scream-level. It’s the most gentle you’ve ever heard him speak.

But then he has to ruin it by pounding once more on the door.

“Come on, you coward, open the damn door!” He rattles the doorknob so violently that you think it might fall off.

This time, you can’t prevent your daughter from letting out a wail. Beside you, your son sniffles.

You muster every last fiber of courage in your being. “Get the hell out of here, Neil,” you growl, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“Y/N? Is that you?” he asks. There’s a soft thud, almost like he’s just leaned his forehead against the wood.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought it was Billy in there,” Neil says.

“Billy-Billy is here,” you stutter.

“No, he’s not. I don’t see the Camaro anywhere, and I know my son takes that damn car everywhere,” Neil says.

Your son wraps his arms around your calf and clings to it. You hope he isn’t able to absorb the panic pulsing through every part of your body

“I’m warning you, Neil, to walk out of here while you still can. I…”

You scan the messy living room, littered with toys. Your gaze falls on a plastic pistol laying on the sofa.

“I have a gun. And I’m not afraid to use it,” you threaten.

The wall between you slightly muffles his ominous chuckle, but it still reaches your ears.

“I’m sure you do, sweetie. But there’s no need to get violent on an old man who just wants to see his grandkids. Why don’t you just open the door, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you just go to hell, Neil?”

The silence drags on long enough for you to almost convince yourself that he’s walked away.

Almost.

And then, just loud enough for it to be audible: “If that’s how you want to play it.”

You jump out of the way as the door falls inward with a thud.

Neil Hargrove slowly lowers the foot he used to kick it down, glaring at you with bloodshot eyes.

You push your son behind you, wrap your arms tighter around your daughter, and take cautious steps backwards.

“Did you really think you could hide from me forever?” he asks. He advances deeper into your home-your sanctuary-with every word.

“What do you want from me?” you demand. Your backside collides with a wall; Neil’s backed you into a corner.

“I just want what you and my son stole from me by skipping town five years ago,” Neil says. “A chance to connect with my family.”

He draws close enough that you can count every crater left by untreated acne on his creased face and smell the stale whiskey on his breath. “I knew you had one child,” he says, peeking around you at the little boy cowering in the corner, “but two? What a pleasant surprise. This little one-let me see her face.”

Neil extends a wrinkled hand to peel back the blanket covering the baby. You’re too stunned to react until his filthy finger is only inches from her face. That’s when you raise a knee and jam it into his groin. He doubles over with a grunt.

“Go!” You practically shove your son into his room and set the baby next to him. Then, a hand wraps around your ponytail, yanking you backwards. Tears stream down your face as you scream at your kids to shut the door and lock it. There’s a slam and a click, then the word “bitch” yelled into your ear. Neil spits into your ear canal as he calls you every name in the book. You claw and kick and punch, but Neil’s got a death grip on your hair. He drags you across the living room floor, promising that he’s “going to make you pay.” He finally tosses you onto the couch. Your back aches as the barrel of the fake gun juts into your spinal cord.

Between your shrieks and Neil’s name-calling, you don’t hear the roar of the engine as the Camaro pulls onto your street, nor the squeal of the brakes as Billy pulls up next to the beat-up pick-up truck he’d recognize anywhere. You don’t hear your husband’s thundering footsteps as he sprints up the sidewalk. No, you don’t notice any of that; you’re too preoccupied flailing around as Neil tries to pin you to the sofa.

But even though you don’t see him, Billy appears in the doorway, still wearing his navy mechanic jumpsuit. He’s covered in grease stains and flushed skin. And, for the first time in his life, he raises his voice at his father without an inkling of fear of the consequences.

“Get your hands off my wife!”

He charges at his father, who’s caught completely off-guard. The two of them crash onto the coffee table, snapping it in two. They only wrestle for a minute before Billy comes out on top. He raises his fist and brings it down on his father’s face until it’s nothing more than a bloody pulp. Billy continues landing blows long after Neil passes out. And, while Neil Hargrove certainly deserves it, you’d rather not have Billy kill someone in your house with your kids in the literal next room. So, eventually, you walk up to your scratched-up, bruised husband and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Baby,” you say softly.

He gazes up at you, the pain and torment of eighteen years of abuse bubbling to the surface once again. Once his eyes meet yours, they immediately soften. He raises himself to his feet and pulls you into a tight embrace. He squeezes you so tightly that you wince, sore from Neil throwing you around like a ragdoll. Billy apologizes profusely and holds you out at arm’s length. His eyes flicker over your features.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” you say honestly. Your hands are shaking profusely, your heart rate is still elevated well above normal levels, and you’re pretty sure you’ll have nightmares about this encounter for the rest of your life.

“Did he hurt you?”

“A little. But it could have been so much worse, if you hadn’t…”

A single tear trails down your cheek. Billy wipes it away with his thumb.

“You don’t have to go there, Y/N. Don’t go there,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “You’re right. We’re safe now-me, the kids-”

“The kids!” you both exclaim at the same time. You run to their bedroom and knock on the door. It swings open, and two small children stare up at you. They both burst into tears, and you and Billy gather them into your arms.

The police arrive a few minutes later, just as Neil starts to regain consciousness. (Having nosy neighbors pays off when you need someone to call 9-1-1 without being asked.) As the officers escort Neil out of the house in handcuffs, Billy warns him to never come near his family again.

And for the first time in his life, his father actually listens.

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