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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

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Golden (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: you are in a relationship with kakaski, but after an accident, you have amnesia, and can’t remember him anymore. angst baby. Very feminine Civilian!reader (you own a bookstore, so cliche lmao) essentially, this series is mindless romantic indulgences i wrote mostly for myself, but if other people can enjoy them then i did my job as a fanfic writer.

A/N: im definitely not writing a fanfic for every song on fine line...haha

Word count: 5600

_____

He lay awake at night after the incident, imagining the moment he truly knew he was in love with her. Completely infatuated with this beautiful woman working at the bookstore. It was the only thing he could do now that his entire world had come crashing around him. With everything that happened in the hospital, this was the only way he knew how to cope.

He drifted off into the dream once again.

Kakashi stood by the front gates of the village, a paperback book he had just bought in his hand, folded over so he could read with one hand. One more time before he left for this mission, one he knew would last longer than anyone would like, he visited the old bookstore in town. He wanted to think he just stopped by to stock up on reading material, but that wasn’t it.

It was always about her.

When he saw Y/N running up to him, her apron nearly falling off and her hair in disarray, his eyes widened and he set the book down by his side. She was out of breath when she got to him, pressing her hands to her chest to get herself put together. Her brows furrowed deeply as she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Kakashi,” she exclaimed.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I know you’re going on this long mission and you won’t be around for a few months, and I can’t stand the thought of you leaving without me telling you this,” she said, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t insanely curious what she had to say. She was a sweet village girl, and he frequented her store, quite a bit actually. On occasion, he would drop by a few times in a day just to say hello. He definitely wasn’t slick.

He waited for her to continue and she didn’t hesitate. “Every time you leave, I get this pain in my chest. I worry about you day and night because I know the life of a shinobi is never guaranteed. I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you this time, if I kept acting like the coward I am.”

“I see? Well, what’s on your mind?”

“I-I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, and I don’t know how to deal with it, so here goes,” she told him, taking a deep breath before her next words, “I think I’m in love with you, Kakashi Hatake. I think I’ve loved you since the first time you stepped foot in my parents store.”

“I…”

What was he supposed to say to that?

“You don’t have to say anything back. It doesn’t bother me, I know how closed off you ninja are. Just please, take my words and hold them close on your journeys.” She paused, clenching her soft fists by her sides. She wasn’t scared of rejection, not at all. She was only scared that Kakashi might not care about her words at all. “Please, don’t forget someone loves you.”

In that moment, he felt his heart stop beating, only for a second, but he felt it. Shifted awkwardly, not wanting to let off that he was getting even a little emotional at her declaration. He was tough as nails, the copy-nin. Not some lover boy, even if he wanted to be. Even if he wanted to swoop in right then and kiss her to pieces.

All he could say was, “I’ll keep that in my mind. Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t fool around out there so you can come back to me in one piece!” she laughed, feeling tears bubbling up in the corners of her eyes.

He found himself smiling back at the young woman. “You got it.”

__________

Kakashi was never really one to express his feelings. Generally, he kept them inside to mourn alone. It was just in his nature, it was nothing personal with the people he knew and trusted. There was just something about Y/N that made him drop down some of those thick barriers.

His girlfriend was a normal woman, working long shifts in the village bookstore since she was a teenager. She never attended the academy, wasn't chakra sensitive, nothing in particular was so outstanding that she was noticed. Nothing on the surface, actually.

It was her smile and her laugh, the way she could make anyone feel like they were important and wanted, that attracted Kakashi to her in the first place. From the first time they met as teenagers in the bookstore aisles, he knew he was caught in some sort of trap. For a minute, he compared the feeling to that of a genjutsu, even though he knew that was far from a possibility.

To him, when she smiled, it felt as if everything was going to be okay. All the pain and suffering disappeared when she was around. He really couldn’t understand how that could be happening, with the world crumbling around him everyday.

That was a particularly rare attribute among ninja folk, whose lives led them to believe that happiness wasn’t achievable and death was common; pain was so normal for him. It was refreshing to have someone around who didn't think like that, that could change the tone of a room in a moment with just an ounce of positive energy. Y/N was innocent to the majority of these harsh realities that the ninja faced, for the most part.

As with most people in the village, her parents lost their lives during the invasion of the nine tails. She was alone for a long time, but despite that, she tried to find joys in reading, in stacking new books on shelves, in talking to unique individuals that would stop by. And as she aged, she realized her most favorite customer was one with a masked face, and a love of gushy, perverted novels.

She was even friends with some of his closest friends, Gai, Yamato, Sakura. She reached out to them, getting visits here and there while she worked during the day. After he informed his closest companions of his blossoming affair with the bookstore girl, they just had to get in an insider view. They kept visiting after the first meetings. Sakura bringing lunch, Yamato helping her with repairs, and Gai just bringing his brightest smile and a boatload of jokes and giggles to share at the front counter.

It was only a matter of time before they fell into some weird friendship, a civilian and one of the top shinobi of their village. He was gone half the time on missions, and sometimes, when he was ANBU, she wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. Occasionally, when a mission was long and difficult, she would hear pawing at her window late into the night. When she pulled back the blinds, a small dog would be sitting there with a folded piece of paper in his mouth, waiting for her to take it.

She loved those letters, they became her prized possessions. There was nothing else she loved more in the world than seeing his kind words written out on paper, his declarations of love that he would never dare say aloud. To him, it was easier to say those things on paper, to not be around when she read about his feelings for her. He was still attentive and kind to her in person, but the letters spoke with a romanticism that he couldn’t.

Y/N practically glowed when she spoke to him, so in love with him she could barely keep it restrained. He knew this. He knew she was as deeply in love with him as he was entranced with her. It had been 5 years since they started dating, and he prolonged the inevitable path of marriage as long as he could. Having a girlfriend was one thing, but marrying someone felt like a burden he couldn’t shoulder. He wanted to, but it just seemed like too much work, too much risk.

After years, he realized the waiting just wasn’t worth it. They were only getting older as the time went by. She just warmed his empty heart, he knew that was something only she could do for him. He needed that.

And that's why he sat in the comfort of Ichiraku, Sakura by his side, sipping on some soup. She was the only one he truly trusted with this knowledge, the only one who could give him genuine advice. He just needed to tell someone what he was about to do. He sat there, his fingers hovering over his pants pocket, eyes trailed down at the table.

"What did you want to talk about, Sensei?" She had asked.

"You really like Y/N, right? Think she's good for me?"

She smiled with a small nod. "Of course. Y/N is so sweet. She makes you so happy I can tell. I think it's really good for you." It was true. Sakura didn’t know what her sensei was like before he met the woman. That was years ago before she was even born. What she did know is that someone with that much pain seeping from his heart could use some love in his life, a stable shoulder to lean onto. If anyone was stable, it was her. Without any cares in the world other than worrying for her boyfriend and keeping her business afloat. Her trauma was behind her, unlike some of the shinobi that carry those with them for the rest of their lives. Guilt, anger, resentment.

He pulled a tiny, drawstring bag from his pocket and fiddled with the strings between his fingers. "When I was in the Land of Fire last month, I picked this up from a merchant," he explained, pulling open the bag and pouring out the contents. A small ring clicked against the bar table. "Take a look, tell me what you think."

She dropped her spoon and reached over for the ring, holding it gently with the pads of her fingertips. It was beautiful. It sparkled like sunlight hitting clear blue waters. A stone rested in the center, flecks of lavender and blue floating in the sparkly gem. When she turned it in the sunlight, more colors appeared and changed, morphing into something spectacular in every sense of the word.

"Kakashi-sensei, it's gorgeous. Are you going to give this to Y/N?"

"After all this time, it seems inevitable really. Time flies."

"Oh my gosh. I'm so happy for you. She's going to be ecstatic, I just know it. She loves you more than life itself." He liked hearing that reaffirmed for him, even though Y/N frequently told him how she felt, daily ‘I love you’s. Unlike him, those words were not rare, but each time it filled his chest with warmth.

He smiled fondly, watching as she continued to turn to ring in her hands. He never thought this would happen to him: marrying someone. He didn't want to lose anyone else. He didn't want to put that risk on someone, especially Y/N. He had suppressed his feelings for her for a few years before he finally succumbed to the urge to tell her. Finally, after years of longing and avoiding the obvious, she became his, and he was undoubtedly hers.

It was a hard decision. He knew it was wrong to risk it, put her life on the line, but now he felt ridiculous sulking around waiting for something that was never going to happen. Nothing had happened to Y/N yet, and it had been years. She was gonna be fine. He was only being paranoid, he had convinced himself.

"Tonight. I'm going to help her close the store and do it then."

"You're a good man, Kakashi. She’s so lucky to have you protecting her and watching out for her, ya know? You two balance each other out perfectly,” the girl sighed. If only she could find a love like her sensei had with his significant other.

"Thanks, Sakura.”

They finished up their conversation, and he paid the bill for her, feeling so high that a bit of money from his wallet didn't even bother him. It was slightly later than he was supposed to go see her. The bookstore should have already closed by about 10 minutes.

All he could think about on the way there was how she would laugh about him being late, as usual. She would hug him to say hello, like she usually wound, and then give him a kiss on his masked cheek. He would help her quickly reorganize books before pulling out the ring. To him, it wasn't really about her saying yes at all so much as this moment, proposing to the love of his life, meant he could leave his curse behind and be happy for once with someone he cared about. She was his savior, an escape from a mindset so ingrained he couldn't fight it on his own.

But when he walked up to the front of the store. He noticed the lights still on even though she would have shut them off by now. The sign out front still flipped to open. He didn’t think it was too weird at all, he just thought maybe she was waiting for him to come along to finish up.

As he walked in though, he noticed the whole reams of paper strewn across the floor. Piles of books were aggressively thrown from the shelves, scattered around the floor like someone side swept them from the stands. Ink stained the checkout counter where she normally sat, inkwell tipped over the edge and dripped onto the carpet which she took care to keep clean. It was disastrous getting stains out of that carpet, she always said to him.

Most importantly, on some of the papers scattered around, he spotted blood splatter, drips of half dried blood present all the way from her desk to the back door. He felt panic rise up from his stomach all the way to his throat, and his heart raced. It was rare something made him truly terrified, and this was one of those moments.

He searched, god, he scoured that entire building over and over again for the woman. He checked every aisle and under every table. He ran upstairs to her apartment and checked in the few small rooms she had, scared she was cowering in her bathtub or hiding under the bed. He ran to the neighboring stores, asking if they'd heard from her, and received nothing but empty words. He just wanted her to be anywhere that he could find, anywhere but in the arms of someone evil.

His Y/N was gone, and he was hopelessly at the mercy of his curse once again.

______

He wasn't even allowed to go on the search mission for his girlfriend. Instead, Tsunade sent Yamato as well as a few chunin who knew Y/N enough to recognize her but not enough to fail at being objective. Apparently, the copy-nin wasn't in his right mind to go on a mission right now, especially one that was so personal to him. All his missions for the foreseeable future had been cancelled and another jounin was set to replace him. He could only sit back at home, guilt ridden and feeling useless, unable to help, unable to search. He did this to her. He knew that putting his heart into someone else's hands wasn't right, that it would only lead to her suffering but he couldn't listen to his own experience. He didn’t think it could happen to Y/N. he thought he could protect her.

But fate finds a way, it seems.

He trusted Yamato and the others to find her, but it was nothing like going himself. He wanted nothing more than to see the men who stole her away taught a lesson for what they had done. He wanted to cradle her in his arms and kiss her head, and promise something like this would never happen again. At least, that’s what he wanted to do. He didn’t know how he would react in the moment, despite developing quite good self-control over the years. How could he contain himself when the perpetrators caused his beautiful girl to bleed, and no doubt suffer?

Sakura felt the worst for Kakashi, knowing what she knew. She could imagine him heading to propose to his little girlfriend whom he loved more than anything in the entire world, and see only her blood splattered across the room and endless signs of a brutal struggle. Not to mention no one had a clue why they stole her or what was happening where no one else could see. The medical nin nearly shed a couple tears when Kakashi rushed into the Hokage's office without announcement, proclaiming that his girlfriend was gone, kidnapped from her own store where she worked alone all day.

Tsunade, despite barely knowing the girl, knew it was important; for anyone to be stolen from their village was serious enough. Although she felt for Kakashi, she had to keep him calm while she worked on finding the subject of his affection. She sent out teams immediately, and stressed that Kakashi was to remain in the village until everything was resolved one way or another. She didn't want any accidents because of a reckless, emotionally compromised shinobi faltering.

It only took the teams a single day to find their target.

Shikamaru and Choji were the ones to come back first, and in the larger boy's arms rested the limp, unconscious body of a missing woman. Ever so gently, he had her head tucked away against his chest the entire way home, trying his best not to hurt her anymore. Even if she was unconscious, he wanted to respect the body. From the moments they spoke before, she seemed like the nicest girl. He felt awful. She wasn’t the one putting her life on the line, she was the one that shinobi were supposed to protect. And they failed her.

When they walked through the gates of the village, Kakashi was already rushing up to the gates waiting for their arrival. He caught up to the boys and reached out to take her body from his arms, just to cradle her against him. It was the least that he could do was take her to the infirmary. To feel her faint heart beating against his chest. He was surprised when one of the chunin sadly shook his head.

"Kakashi, she's alive, but trust me, you don't want to see what they did to her," Shikamaru warned, and Choji flinched, just thinking about what her poor face looked like when they found her. Shikamaru knew for a fact that if his girlfriend was ever handed off to him looking so pitiful, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He didn’t want the same to befall on his sensei. "Just trust me, I cannot let you see it, for your sake. Let Choji bring her to Tsunade."

He felt a burning in his stomach, pain creeping up in his abdomen like he was going to throw up all over the dirt path they stood on, but he did his best to remain calm despite the mix of emotions running through his head. He watched as the Akimichi carried her quickly off to the hospital. Kakashi didn't miss though, the blood stains on his tunic surrounding the area where her head was resting, circling her face. She had bled a lot in her time away, he realized.

God, he felt sick. So fucking nauseous.

"What happened?" he breathed heavily, words slipping through.

"Apparently, the guy had a grudge against your clan for something your father did to his family. Killed a criminal brother or some shit. When he heard wind of your girlfriend he knew he would take his revenge. Didn't want ransom, fame, nothing, just to torment you and torture her. Disgusting bastard."

There was one thing he wanted to know on top of his worry about her condition. He’d been thinking about it for the entire day she was missing. Obsessing even.

"What did you do with the man?" He hoped that justice had been served, and he couldn't imagine the two boys doing anything less.

"A man that would do that to a woman doesn't deserve his life," he muttered, his eyes trailed off to the village, “I made it painful.”

Kakashi nodded to him, and together they stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Sensei?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

____________

When he got to the hospital, Choji was directly quickly to a special unit with particularly fancy machines around the room. Sakura was standing beside her own mentor awaiting the arrival of her friend. The moment she finally saw Y/N's exposed face, she cried. Tears fell from her eyes and she leant over the hospital bed to get a look at all her wounds. She looked alien, and the amount of blood that stained her hairline and cheeks was thick and heavy. Choji had tried to wipe it off, but he just couldn’t get it all.

"Y/N! Oh my God, what did they do to you?" She cried, running her hands shakily over the contusions and the cuts and the bulging areas near her temples. Her body was no better but her face is what hurt Sakura the most. It was hard to believe that all the life had been drained from her body after this one incident.

The light had left her body. Her familiar glow emanating from her soft skin was missing. She looked cold and dead. For the first time, Sakura saw her without her smile, without any bit of optimism. It felt like she was staring at an empty shell of the woman she knew.

"Sakura, get the IV ready. I need to get to work."

And so she did what she does best. Healers at work in their element fixing broken bones, burst capillaries in her head, torn skin. Everything they could. It took hours, and her face still wasn't completely healed in the end, just less swollen. She still had some bumps and bruises but those weren't going to be so bad. They could heal by themselves with a few days of rest and care.

She would be okay, they decided after a while of treatment, and moved her into a normal hospital room, under watch of nurses every so often, no visitors allowed either. Not for the first few days, much to Kakashi's displeasure. He was really getting irritated with the way everyone was keeping him from seeing her. Shouldn’t he be allowed? Essentially, the only family she had left? In reality though, he was scared.

But did he even want to see her again? He loved her, would do anything in the world for her. If only he had the guts to just give up on her and let her meet a normal man from the village, let her marry him and just forget all about their relationship. Then, nothing like this would ever happen again. She would be safer without having connections with him. He was so upset with himself for letting this happen.

He hated himself. It had been a long time since he genuinely thought those words. He hated himself more than anyone else. He let this happen, he was to blame for all this mess. A monster.

He headed back to his apartment that night and stared over at her tiny pile of belongings in the corner, ones she had left over his place as time went on. They still didn't live together so it wouldn't be the worst thing if he broke up with her. She would be hurt, probably cry for a few days, a week, maybe a month. He didn’t know. All he knew was that a little bit of crying was a lot better than getting fatally injured.

Just return her belongings in a box, and never go back to that fucking bookshop where he fell in love with her. He could get his novels directly from Jiraiya if he wanted them.

Tsunade already told him it would be days before he would be allowed to see her again, something about the healing process and that her chakra wasn't enough to fix everything. Based on what Shikamaru had told him, the way he acted- it must have been pretty bad. He couldn't even imagine her face beaten and broken.

All he knew was that in 2 days, he would be allowed to see her again, to possibly talk to her and apologize for what he had caused. It was the least he could do. At this point he couldn't imagine giving her that ring. How could she accept when he was the reason she was abducted and tortured?

He barely slept that night, but it didn't matter. He didn't have anything to do. He was given time off work until everything was resolved. He wondered if it would have been better to have a mission and forget all about the situation for even a couple fleeting moments.

He was just so tired of these feelings. He felt suffocated, and unlike himself. He was finding it hard to be cool, calm, and collected like usual. He just felt terrible. Too terrible to eat, too terrible to sleep, too terrible to do anything but stare up at the ceiling and wonder what could have been.

______

It was time to head to the hospital and see her. Yamato had come to his apartment so they could go and see Y/N. Tsunade gave him the green light first thing that morning when he reported to her. The wood style ninja wanted to see her as well, just to say he was happy she was recovering and even tell her that next time she needed help, if Kakashi wasn't around, to run to his apartment. He would always open his arms to help. So many shinobi of the village, after this incident, would be willing to drop everything and help. Her bookstore would probably always have eyes on it from now on.

Word travelled fast between the shinobi and soon enough almost everyone was giving Kakashi sympathetic looks, patting him on the back and apologizing to him for something they knew nothing about. He just wanted to get to her and say sorry for everything he had done. For not being there sooner, for his father and his clan causing this whole thing. He just needed to see her face. He couldn't get her out of his head.

Sakura was standing outside the room when he arrived. She was biting on her nails, which was oddly uncharacteristic of her. She rarely got nervous enough for habits like that to arise. She was normally so confident. That was the first of the red flags.

"Kakashi-sensei, Yamato. You're here to see Y/N, aren't you?" she asked, her voice quiet and hesitant.

She let him Yamato walk past her into the room but she raised her hand before Kakashi could walk in. She gave him one of the most sorry, pitiful looks he had ever seen, and her lip was quivering just a bit. It was barely noticeable but Kakashi was talented at noting the smallest things.

"Kakashi, I'm really sorry about everything. Lady Tsunade did everything she could. When you go in there, just please don't get upset. It's not as bad as you think. I'll explain everything later, but I want to see how she reacts to seeing you first," she bit out, her words mending together awkwardly.

He figured she was just nervous about her condition or maybe she was still bruised and bandaged up. If she was in a full body cast, he wouldn’t care. As long as he could see her. He couldn’t understand why Sakura was so worried. She would still be beautiful to him. She could never lose that shine that she carried regardless of her external features.

"Hmm. I'm sure it will be fine."

"I'm serious. Don't get upset and alarm her, it's very important you be careful."

"Gotcha."

She watched as he walked past her into the white room, sunlight leaking onto her bedside. The woman was fond of staring out the window since she woke, comforted by the familiarity of the village and the birds that flew by. That was the one thing she needed. Comfort.

Yamato sat at her bedside, and she seemed to be talking to him quietly. Her brows were furrowed deeply and she seemed strained, thoughts running through her brain.

"Kakashi-" the man began to say, desperate to say anything to his friend before the inevitable, but was interrupted.

"Y/N, I was so worried about you," he said, words tumbling out before he could even think. He just had so much to say. He continued, "I need to apologize for what happened. I know I should have been at the shop earlier to help you close, I just got caught up in something. It was my family's fault for your kidnapping. I cannot believe I dropped my guard and let this happen to you, baby-"

She looked at him, but without an ounce of the fondness he was so used to. Instead, his girlfriend just looked confused.

"I… I'm sorry but, Sir, do I know you?"

No.

Not this.

He pleaded in his head that this was not happening. That somehow he had misheard.

"It's me, Kakashi,” he replied softly, almost pleading for her to say something else.

She smiled sympathetically, peering up at him with a little glimmer of that kindness he knew in her eyes. He could tell she was confused, and he began to feel his heart break. "Uh, I'm so sorry but I don't remember you. We're we friends or something?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say something like that,” he muttered, his eyes turned to stare at the white tiles beneath his feet.He couldn’t look at her anymore.

"Yamato, you're friends with Kakashi-san, too?" She asked the brunette at her bedside, sitting in a chair wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his pants. He felt himself becoming nervous, especially when he felt Kakashi watching him. Why did she have to ask him that question? Why did she have to address him by his name so casually? He could feel Kakashi begin to bubble up emotions he hadn’t felt from him before.

"Yes. We are all very close friends, Y/N. You were closest with Kakashi actually."

"Then how come I can’t remember any of you?"

"I don't know." He felt fear creeping up his neck, Kakashi overwhelming his senses. The grey haired man just stood there, his eye flickering between the love of his life and his friend who apparently her brain thought was more important than him. Did he not look friendly enough to talk to? Was Yamato more inviting than he was, was that why she stopped talking to him? “I really wish I could help you there,” he mumbled.

She turned back to Kakashi and smiled, but it wasn't the one he knew from her. It was different. He hated it. He didn't even want to look at her anymore.

"I hope I remember you soon, or I'll just have to get to know you again, Kakashi-san," she chirped, reaching out to touch his hand which rested on the edge of her bed. The reaction he had was immediate and almost startling. The second her hand touched his, her warmth pressed to his cold fingers, he yanked his hand away and shoved it into his pocket.

He didn't want her to touch him. He didn't want anything other than to leave. Fuck getting to know him again. That wasn't an option.

"I need to go. I've got a mission I need to prepare for."

"Okay! Goodluck out there," she called to him as he turned on his heel to leave. He grit his teeth, feeling another wave of emotion overtake him. As he stepped outside the door, Sakura was still waiting there for him, her arms crossed over her chest sheepishly.

"Will she ever remember me again?" He asked simply.

"I don't know. She's got retrograde amnesia which can sometimes be permanent depending on the damage done to the brain. We couldn't fix it, no matter how much we tried. She doesn't remember me either. She doesn't remember Gai or Naruto or even Tsunade. She only remembers the village and a few bits and pieces that she can associate with it. Of course she remembers her name and her bookstore, but specific people and memories are essentially gone for now."

"So she's lost to us?"

"She can still get her memories back, but it will take time," she explained. "Sensei, I'm so sorry. None of us wished anything like this on you. I told Tsunade about the ring you were going to give her and the proposal, and we mourned for you. I'm so sorry." She felt so bad, and they did cry for him. They cried for the girl who got to keep her life but lost her soul.

"I have to get back to my apartment and clean up a few things," he dismissed, turning his head away from his student as well. He felt his heart clench in his chest as he walked away. The ring still sat deep in his pants pocket and he wanted nothing more than to throw it in the river.

He wished he was the one who forgot everything. Maybe this pain in his heart would subside. Maybe all the guilt would be washed away once and for all.

Part Two and Three are out.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #kakashi oneshot #kakashi fanfic #naruto one shot #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagine #naruto imagine #fluff #angst #the reader is a vert sweet and feminine girl and i hope that doesnt offend anyone

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

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Train Cars and Sun Spots - Kaminari Denki

—/—

You think he’s beautiful.

A disarming, reckless sort of beautiful as he barrels into the train, jumping headfirst through the doors just seconds from closing. He erupts into a flurry of fidgeting as he skids to a stop, one hand patting down his wild blonde hair and the other dusting off his sweats. It’s like he can’t sit still. Like he’s got an itch in his skin that’s shifting his weight around, balancing on one foot and then the other- rinse and repeat as he grabs onto the handrail above his head for stability.

Another second passes and then he’s pulling a plastic water bottle from his bag, twisting it open and crinkling the plastic. It seems to you that that he’s trying to make as much noise possible, but then you notice his headphones. They’re black and yellow, undeniably playing at full blast in his ears. You then decide it’s much more likely that he just can’t hear himself- that he somehow doesn’t realize how much of a scene he’s making in the otherwise quiet train car.

You find it a little refreshing, him seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You’d been riding this train for weeks now, to and from school, and you’d seen the same people day after day. The same old businessmen and their same old brief-cases and their same old silence. Not him though- never him and his noise. You were sure you’d remember hearing someone as loud as him.

Still, you try not to stare.

Although, you suppose, it wouldn’t really matter. He probably wouldn’t be able to pick you out of all the other people staring. It’s like he’s got the entire train car arrested and staggered; all eyes stuck on the strange boy who was moving far too much for a 7:00AM commute.

Shifting in your seat, you balanced your book higher in your hands. You hoped that by just barely skimming your eyes over the top, hiding inconspicuously behind the pages, you could look and not be noticed.

You were wrong.

When you glance over at him, he’s already looking at you. He’s got eyes like molten gold, and when he smiles they crinkle closed into happy little slits. That smile is easy and unrelenting when he pushes away from the handrail, hands shoved into his pockets as he nears.

“Hey there!”

His words are friendly, but god, if his voice isn’t loud. You wince, beginning to think that you’d severely underestimated the volume of his music. You’re sure now that it absolutely must be bursting his eardrums.

“Oh-“ He looks sheepish. Then he’s yanking the headphones from his ears, and dropping into the seat next to you. “Too loud, right? Sorry! Didn’t realize.”

You’re stunned.

At first, it seemed unbelievable that this conversation could’ve arised from just a single glance; but then you look a little closer, at his shifting eyebrows and his grin that’s colored shades of flirtatious and it’s a little more believeable. You realize quickly that’s all it ever would’ve taken with him- A single look.

“I’m Kaminari.” He announces confidently, your silence not deterring him in the slightest. “Kaminari Denki.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, hi?”

“Hi!” He greets again, and then he’s pulling that same water bottle from his back. It’s crinkling and half-empty and he’s extending it to you. “Want some?”

It’s in the way his eyebrows wiggle, the mischeivous glint in his eyes- you can see his intentions plastered across his face. The water bottle’s just a front for an indirect kiss. Quite literally the oldest trick in the book.

You want to roll your eyes, but then you look at him again. At his bright eyes and long lashes and shaggy hair falling softly over his forehead. He’s the sort of pretty that gives a lot of second chances- you were no exception to that rule.

“No thanks.” You laugh, easily dazzled by his sunshine smile. You raise a palm to push the bottle away. “Keep it to yourself, yeah?”

“Aww, but you’re too cute not to share with!”

The line rolls off his tongue smooth and easy, and you’re sure now- Kaminari’s a flirt. A shameless, brazen one dripping honey between his words as he fluffs his hair. It’s all a little too natural, a little too practiced. It takes only seconds, and you know definitively that you’re far from the first girl he’s offered his water to.

He’s still cute though, if only in a fleeting way, so you decide to humor him. It’s not like you’ve got anything more pressing to attend to.

“Mhm. And just how often do you use that line, huh?” You ask, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I-“ He starts, but then he’s slouching into the seat laughing. “Yeah, maybe not my best work. Meant it though.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“No, really! I did!”

You look at him again.

Kaminari’s straightened himself, eyes earnest and smile kind as he gazes back. He’s fiddling with the strings on his sweatshirt, idly twirling them between his fingers. It’s a human gesture. Unrehearsed and unpracticed and seemingly only for your eyes. You begin to wonder if that’s his real tactic- coming on strong just to melt into warm, sun-soaked softness.

“Alright. I believe you. Maybe.” You say. “But you’re on thin ice, Kaminari.”

“I’ll take it!” He fist-bumps the air. “See normally, I’d be totally crashing and burning by now!”

“So you are admitting I’m not the first girl you’ve tried that on?”

“What I- Okay. Yes? Maybe?” He laughs nervously, hand once again twirling his sweatshirt strings. “In my defense, I’m not the smartest guy, alright?”

“Nor the quietest either.”

“What?”

He’s got his head turned, cocked to the side as he blinks slowly at you. You think he looks like a confused puppy.

“You practically screamed at me when you said hi.” You tell him easily, letting an amused smile crawl across your lips. “Kinda thought I was being yelled at for a second.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry! Really! I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. Can I give you just a little advice, though?”

“Sure?”

“Don’t scream at the next girl and then immeadiately offer her something to drink. That’s generally pretty suspicious.”

You watch the light leave Kaminari’s eyes and then he folds in his seat. He snaps at the waist, dropping his face into his palms and letting out a theatric groan.

“God, I messed this up.” He whines, peeking at you through his fingers. “Messed up real bad, didn’t I?”

“A little,” You laugh. “But it’s alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re good.”

He smiles then, so relieved and happy and just downright giddy that it nearly blinds you. It’s the kind of smile that makes you think he swallowed the sun; like rays of light were bursting through the tiny gaps in his teeth.

“So, what’s your name then?” He asks.

“L/n Y/n.”

“Y/n. Hmm, I like it.” He sighs happily. “Pretty.”

“That’s my first name.”

“I know.” He grins, all pearly whites and crows feet. You think he’s got a dangerous smile- one that lets him get away with anything. “Figured we’re close enough for that, right?”

“I’ve known you for two minutes.”

“Hey, 2 minutes, 2 hours, 2 years- who’s counting?”

“Me.”

“Okay, well good then.” He snickers. “Because I’m like, really bad at math- Wait. Shit. Should I have told you that?”

“Probably not.”

“Man, I am bad at this.” He whines. His knees knock into yours when he throws himself back into his seat. “It’s not my fault, alright? Usually I never get this this far with girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“Mhm. Cute ones.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes, only so forgiving. “Really laying it on thick, huh?”

“For sure. My stop’s next so I gotta make sure you actually like me at some point in the next few minutes.”

Something evil slithers into your mind, and you’re smirking when you turn toward him. There’s just an inkling, a tiny little theory in your head, and you want to test it.

“Who said I didn’t already like you?”

Kaminari jumps, his cheeks reddening by the second. There’s nothing cool or composed about him and your theory is confirmed.

Kaminari is a dork. A massive, massive, dork desperately pretending to be a cool guy.

“I- what? You like me?” He asks excitedly, voice rising higher. “Seriously? Like, actually?”

“Sure.” You giggle. “You seem pretty harmless, all things considered.”

“That’s- is that a compliment?” He asks playfully, squinting his eyes at you. “Because harmless wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”

“Oh, so you were trying to creep me out?”

“No!” He shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushing as he laughs.

You giggle too, unable to help yourself. Kaminari really is cute, a lot more so when he’s not recycling tired lines.

“You’re mean.” He smiles something small and pleased. “I like it.”

Suddenly the train car jolts, brakes squeaking and squealing as it skids to a stop. You rock forward with the force, and Kaminari knocks his shoulders into yours. When you look at his face, he’s got that mischevious glint back in his eyes, as he bites down on his lip. A second passes and then he touches his shoulders into yours again.

“Really sorry.” He smirks. “Bumpy ride, you know?”

You roll your eyes again, but you are actually feeling a bit charmed. He’s got a sneaky way of buttering people up, you realize- of somehow weaponizing his own embarrassment.

“But I actually do have to go.” He stands, and then he’s pressing his hands together and winking. “I’ll see you here same time tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know, are you gonna yell at me again?”

“Absolutely! Gottta yell at all the pretty girls, you know?”

“Stop.” You laugh, blushing. You nod towards the doors. “I’ll be here, but go. Door’s gonna close, you dork.”

Kaminari nods and then he’s shoving his headphones back in, still crinkling that water between his fingers. There’s nothing quiet about him as he leaves and you come to think that maybe that’s how he really gets you- it’s not with lines or indirect kisses or grace, it’s with air that seems uncomfortably vacant when he leaves. It’s with the vaccuum he leaves behind.

You watch the doors close after him, but he’s stops on the platform, shooting you a thumbs up through the window. There’s a goofy grin plastered across his face, wide and sunny and brillant. It’s the kind of smile that leaves you wondering if Kaminari knows just how brightly he shines.

When the train kicks into motion again, you’re smiling too, rubbing your eyes as you blink away the sun spots he left behind.

//—//

jus a lil somethin for denki,, as a ~treat~,,, may or may not turn this into a tiny lil series we’ll see :))))

#bnha kaminari #mha kaminari #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #kaminari x you #kaminari x y/n #denki x reader #denki x y/n #bnha fic #mha fic

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stubbychaos · 5 years ago

Text

A Guilty Conscience

Chapter 10 of Saviin’ika

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: While you get used to your new role in the tribe, you make it your mission to meet the ones who are to be your family. While befriending some unlikely members of the tribe, Paz later surprises you with something that he thinks will make you happy, though it ends up having the opposite effect.

Rating: T

Word Count: 14,000 *Y’all idk how this happened, I’m so sorry lol*

Warnings: Some unresolved sexual tension, minor injuries and reader still dealing with a bunch of past trauma. Other than that, this chapter is pretty harmless!

Just a quick mention: Thank you as always to @datmando for inspiring me and giving me so many amazing ideas for this story!! You’ve helped me so much with this story and getting through writer’s block and I freaking love you <3 Thank you as well to @aerynwrites @hdlynnslibrary and @maybege for all being wonderful and I love you all for motivating me to write more Paz!!

Also thank you to @coredrive for the beautiful gifs you made!! If anyone wants quality gifs for their stories, masterlists, etc... please go to Kat because she was so freaking lovely and sweet!!

“Would you like one of my shirts, ner cyare?”

You turn around, coming face to face with an unarmored Paz who is sitting on the foot of the bed, his forearms lazily resting on top of his thighs as he observes the way you hopelessly shift the torn, silky fabric in your hands. You turn to face the culprit who is currently curled up in a white rocky ball close to the furnace in the main area of Paz’s private quarters, seeming completely unbothered and not regretful that she had used your only sleep attire as a chewing toy while you were in the shower and Paz was talking to the armorer.

“That would be nice, thank you,” You murmur softly, watching with a smile as he promptly stands and makes his way over to the dresser near his bed while you discard the torn, silky fabric.

Though a few days have passed since the fight without incident--much to your appreciation--you notice Paz acting differently around you and while it’s not in a bad way by any means, it still has your curiosity growing. You notice how he almost seems worried about letting you stray too far from him, though you’re certain it’s not because he’s concerned one of his own will hurt you again, but perhaps he has the same fears you hold in your very own heart. While you’ve only been with the tribe for three days, you find yourself getting less sleep with every passing day, afraid that when you wake up, you’ll be right back at the village infirmary with your estranged father.

Perhaps he’s anxious that if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll randomly decide to leave without a word or trace.

The thought amuses you and also fills your heart with grief, wondering how the Mandalorian could possibly conjure the thought of you even thinking about leaving the place that had quickly become your safe haven.

“I’m going to shower, if you want to change,” Paz gruffly voices as he approaches you with a thick, black garment and you perk up a little upon feeling how warm it is--how warm it will keep you.

Once the Mandalorian is in the refresher, you’re quick to strip your clothes, smiling softly as you neatly fold the emerald, long-sleeved dress that Ima had found for you in a designated stack of clothes that wasn’t being worn by anyone in the tribe. Once you are only in your shorts, you grab Paz’s black shirt that he must wear over all his padding and sheepishly tug it over your head, instantly relishing in how it smells just like him--all woodsy and spicy and just like the soap he uses. The material is incredibly thick, though it’s not stiff and doesn’t make it feel like you’re suffocating; it feels soft and comforting against your bare skin, engulfing you so warmly just like one of his embraces, though you still long for the intense pressure of his arms around you. The sleeves that usually come to an end just above his elbows now fall just a few inches above your wrists and the hem skims the middle of your thighs.

As you sit on the edge of the bed and get to work on tending to your braids and all the tangles from the hair you had chosen to leave down, you think of how surreal everything still feels and how all the horrors you had ever dreamed about running away from are currently above you in the village. You try your hardest not to think about it, and instead, your mind wanders to the tribe and its intimidating, rambunctious warriors that you’ve been interacting with in the covert for the past few days.

It’s been… an interesting experience, to say the least.

For people who you used to be terrified of until recently, you think it’s somewhat surprising as well as amusing that Paz had been correct when he mentioned them being quite mischievous when it came to you, though you’re certain most of it comes from you being an outsider and not understanding their language. It had already happened a couple times where you would be exploring the enclave, trying to memorize the tunnels and where different ones led, and you would run into a small group of Mandos speaking in their native tongue as you shyly approached them to introduce yourself.

Most of the time they would simply peer down at you while informing you that they already knew who you were--that they had seen you standing your ground against Paz, which apparently nobody in the tribe had ever really done before. It was quite interesting seeing everyone’s perspective towards their heavy-infantry warrior, how they knew him to be one of the strongest in the tribe and how they respected him for it. However, it was also slightly amusing that they seemed to have no problem making jokes at his expense--talking about how they were glad you were at the covert so he would stop being grouchy and angry all the time.

Ima, you found, was the exact same way, although she had no qualms about berating the man she called her uncle to his face.

Seeing the way the teenager and your blue warrior interacted with one another felt like some sort of special phenomenon that you had never really witnessed before--a relationship stronger than that between a sister and a brother, but not quite as profound as one between a daughter and father. You thought uncle and niece was a good way to describe it and though you’re curious as to why Ima doesn’t call anyone else in the tribe ‘brother’ or ‘sister’, you decide it’s better not to ask for the sake of accidentally bringing up a sad memory.

You’re too deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice a hulking figure emerge from the refresher minutes later, a few water droplets dripping down his shoulders and back as he mindlessly observes you combing through your hair with your fingers.

A small cough startles you and you turn your head to gaze at Paz, his helmet slightly tilted to the side as he stares at you through the guise of that unforgiving visor. Your fingers are still threaded in your damp hair, your bare legs dangling off the side of his bed with your sock-clad toes barely skimming the stone floor as you blink owlishly at him, still not used to seeing him expose so much of his skin.

He’s not saying anything and it has you slightly worried--have you done something wrong?

“Paz, are you okay?”

His bare, broad shoulders tense upwards when you shift on the bed, finally working through a stubborn tangle as you tilt your head at him; you find yourself doing that a lot more lately and you think being surrounded by so many Mandalorians has their little mannerisms rubbing off on you.

You move to get up when he doesn't say anything, now worried that you really have done something wrong, but Paz shakes his head and squashes your worries immediately.

"No--I mean, yes," He huffs and shakes his helmet a little harder when you stand up next to the bed to pull the thick fur away from the pillows it's tucked under while he moves to turn off the lights, "I'm fine, just a little tired, cyare."

You nod your understanding, feeling your own exhaustion creeping up on you, though today had been a relatively easy day in regards to treating scrapes and bruises. You’ve come to find that some of the younger, less trained Mandalorians aren’t exactly the most graceful on their feet, some tripping over their own capes while descending staircases, while others who are less skilled with blades or blasters manage to slip up and injure themselves. It’s definitely not the kind of injuries you’re used to tending--minor ones--but you find it much more pleasant and rewarding than your job in the village, especially when everyone here has treated you politely, for the most part.

You know that even while you had been accepted into the tribe, it doesn’t quite make you part of the family to some, especially to those who still felt as though you should swear the creed to be fully accepted. It was a big detail you had worried about quite a bit, whether or not you would have to swear the creed and wear a helmet just as the rest of them, but you think that perhaps it is a topic you should speak to the armorer about.

You slide underneath the heavy fur and exhale a content sigh, reminding yourself that such worries could wait until morning.

A yawn leaves you just as you hear the quiet hiss of Paz’s helmet being removed before he places it on his nightstand and a tired smile stretches your lips when you feel the mattress dip underneath the weight of the warrior’s body.

Before you can even turn to face him, his huge arm is wrapped around your waist and he’s carefully moving you closer to him; an intense warmth spreads throughout your cheeks when he holds you close, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he wastes no time in placing a kiss to the top of your damp hair. You can feel the heat from his bare chest already spreading throughout your entire body and you curl your legs back to press your feet against his bare ankles.

He lets out a small huff as he curls his fingers into the soft material of his shirt covering your abdomen and leans down to press a tender kiss to your cheek, “You are lucky I love you, or else I would not let you wear socks in our bed.”

The ‘our bed’ comment definitely doesn’t go over your head and you hold back a giggle when he sighs against your warm skin, his thumb stroking firm circles near your belly button, “I cannot help it that my feet are always cold.”

His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he settles behind you, his hand moving a little lower to your hip, just underneath where your cauterized wound is still healing, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, “I told you that you’d do nothing to warm our bed up, mesh’la, I knew I was right. You’re always freezing.”

“If I recall correctly, you told me that you would not mind keeping me warm,” You remind him of what he had said the night he had told you his name, your cheeks growing hot when you feel his lips against the outer shell of your ear, “And you are doing no such thing, ori kebiin.”

“You are a funny woman,” Paz is still trying not to laugh as his hand comes up to cup your jaw, long fingers splayed widely against your burning cheeks, “You feel plenty warm to me, sweetheart.”

Realizing that there’s no way of beating the Mandalorian at his own game, you give up and simply shuffle your curled toes between his calves, making him grunt a little when he feels the blocks of ice that are your sock-clad feet through the material of his sleep pants. He cups your jaw and urges your head to the side a little, using his thumb that’s pressed to the corner of your lips to seek them out with his own.

This close intimacy is certainly another thing you’ve noticed since you forgave him after the fight--him wanting to kiss and touch you whenever it’s just the two of you. It’s definitely something you don’t mind, you realize as his tongue firmly swipes across your bottom lip, and you find yourself growing more comfortable and relaxed when it comes to accepting little touches from him. You can tell that it’s something he’s nervous about when you two are just laying in his bed, wide awake when sleep refuses to wrap itself around the two of you--that he’s worried something he does will set you off.

He always tries to keep his touches to your thighs and hips feather-light after politely asking if it’s okay for him to touch you there and a part of you wonders if he’s already concluded that you’re simply not used to people asking you for consent when it comes to certain things.

Even if it’s not the reason why, you’re still grateful he always asks and his consideration fills your heart with warmth whenever he seems so hellbent on making sure you’re comfortable when you two find yourself in these sort of intimate settings. It doesn’t necessarily feel like it’s him testing your boundaries, but more so him seeing what you like and what gets certain noises out of you, though you find your skin quite sensitive to every nip and lick he inflicts on you.

A part of you is grateful that he usually lies on his back when the two of you are holding one another, as the thought of being pinned underneath anyone again, even your blue warrior, lingers like a storm cloud in the back of your mind.

Currently, however, you focus on the way his fingers tentatively curl around your thigh, just below the hem of the shirt he had given you and your lashes flutter as he guides your head back a little so he has more access to your throat. He seems a little more eager tonight, you think, and as his fingers curl into the thick fabric at your thighs while he dutifully presses tender kisses to your sensitive skin, you start to slowly put the pieces together.

“Paz?” His name comes out in the form of a breathy whisper as he settles back to press a kiss into your damp hair.

He still seems slightly dazed as he brings his arm back to curl tightly around your waist, “Hm?”

“Earlier, when you were staring at me when you came out of the shower,” You grin a little when you feel the way his arms tense around your middle, “Was it… is it because I’m wearing your shirt?”

Paz huffs an amused noise and you’re certain you’ve left him flustered for once as he slowly shifts his body until he’s able to rest his chin against the slope of your neck, “I like the way you look in anything, cyare, but something about seeing you wearing my clothes--it does things to me. I can’t say that I am upset that your vulptex tore up your nightgown, not with how beautiful you look right now.”

“You can’t even see me right now, silly man.”

“I don’t need to,” He mumbles, his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he lazily tends to all the little marks he left behind with his lips and teeth the previous night, “I remember everything about you, ner cyare, like how your eyes always get big whenever you see me taking off my armor and my clothes. Perhaps my sweet little nurse isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

You nearly let out with a whimper when you feel his tongue on your skin, your cheeks burning furiously as his hand cautiously grazes up your thigh, “Is this okay?”

His tepid breath fanning along the column of your throat makes you shiver a little and your voice cracks a little when you speak, “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He repeats with a soft sigh, his hand moving past the little shorts you typically wear to bed and up to your bare hip, just underneath where your blaster wound is still tender, though not nearly causing you as much pain, “Stars, your skin is so damn soft and your hair smells good--just like those flowers you’re always wearing.”

You let your eyes close as he continues to explore your stomach with feather-like strokes, seeming content to simply warm you with his large hand and you feel your thighs clench together firmly when he rubs a sensitive spot just underneath your belly button. His hands are leaving a scorching blaze in their wake and you feel a deep shudder wrack your body upon feeling the wet, open-mouthed kisses he’s leaving just underneath your earlobe.

Despite the ache between your thighs, you jump when his fingertips barely graze just above the hem of your shorts and he immediately freezes upon feeling the tension in your body.

“I’m sorry,” Your ears grow hot with shame and you think he must be frustrated with you for not feeling ready to be intimate on this kind of level yet, “I just--”

“Hey, don’t you dare ever apologize for knowing when you’re not ready,” He whispers, moving his lips away from your jaw and removing his hand from underneath the shirt he let you borrow, “I shouldn’t have done that--I should have asked first.”

“It’s okay,” You weakly reassure him, smiling softly when he politely fixes your shirt, dragging the hem back down your thighs, “I... I want to be with you like that and I thought I was ready but I... I don’t know.”

“You do not owe me an explanation. I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do,” Paz promises in a rushed tone as he moves to unlatch his arm from around you, though you are quick to stop him, “I am sorry if I was too forward, cyare. I want you to only ever feel comfortable around me and if I ever do or say anything that you don’t like, please tell me, okay? I’ll never be mad at you.”

“I love you, Paz.”

He relaxes against you and presses another tender kiss into the hair above the tip of your ear, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner cyare.”

You smile into the darkness at the warmth his words bring you, though you can’t help but to feel doubt towards yourself and you turn your head a little over your shoulder until his warm breath fans across the plane of your cheek. Even though you can’t see him in the slightest, you like to imagine his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully--curiously--and you hear him let out an inquisitive hum when you murmur his name.

“I haven’t been able to sleep the last couple of days,” You admit softly, placing your hand on top of the much larger one that’s resting just under your sternum, “I’m scared that every night here is going to be my last one--that someone isn’t going to want me here because I haven’t sworn to the creed and that I don’t wear a helmet or armor.”

Paz exhales softly and you close your eyes when his minty breath tickles your nostrils, “Our alor already knows that you were to be brought to the tribe to be our nurse, not a fighter. I made it clear to everyone that you would not have to wear our armor and if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me or the armorer. You’re not going anywhere… not if you don’t want to.”

You detect the way his voice lowers into a much more sheepish, subdued tone upon whispering the last part and your suspicions from earlier are proved correct.

He’s afraid that you’re going to change your mind about staying with the tribe.

In an attempt to squash his own fears and insecurities, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and urge his arm up past your chest until you are able to lean your head down a little and kiss his calloused knuckles tenderly. He lets out a content sigh as you let him splay his fingers out widely against the swell of your breast, your heart pounding frantically against his palm while his thumb studies your firm pulse at the base of your neck.

“I just want to be wherever you are, Paz,” You murmur, your lips stretching into a smile when he tenderly kisses your cheek again.

“I feel the same way about you,” He sighs, finally relaxing completely as you keep his hand cradled to your chest, “Anything else you’re losing sleep over, cyare?”

For a moment it sounds like he’s teasing you, but something about the rawness and sincerity of his voice makes you think differently and you swallow the lump in your throat as you think of the little boy from the nursery--the one that had clung onto your leg and hugged you. Though a part of you wants to ask Paz more about how he was found and what happened to his parents, you think it best not to ask and shake your head a little bit.

It is none of your business.

“Try to get some rest,” Paz murmurs against your cheek, his beard scratching your sensitive skin, “I’ll make sure to wake you up if you have any nightmares.”

You murmur a tired ‘thank you’ and let your eyes slip shut, feeling reassured by his words and the feathery press of his lips against the tail of your brow, along with the way his thumb continues to rest atop your pulse point at the bottom of your neck.

For once, you sleep restfully--not necessarily dreaming of much, but not really having any nightmares either. You’re stuck in a strange limbo for the rest of the night and at one point, you feel Paz stroking your brow in an effort to calm you down upon feeling your body jolt when you wake from a strange dream that has you crying out.

As you fall back asleep underneath the comforting guidance of his hands and sweet whispers against the shell of your ear, you briefly wonder if the heavy-infantry warrior ever sleeps.

The next morning when you wake up and tiredly crack your eyes open, Paz is already fumbling around the little kitchenette, his helmet and underclothes now on and you prop yourself up on an elbow as you watch him set a wooden bowl down in front of your excited vulptex. The dish is filled with colorful fruit and chunks of meat and you think it must be the best meal she’s had since she was born, what with her dramatic reaction. She lets out long, happy little squeaks between bites and you think you hear something reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle from Paz’s vocoder when he reaches out to graze a bare hand along her rocky spine.

“And here I thought you hated her,” You murmur with a yawn, stretching your arms above your head before gracelessly rolling out of bed, the room dimly lit as you make your way over to your beloved companions, “You and everyone else are always calling her a runt.”

Paz snorts and shakes his head a little, tilting his head a little as he hands you a bowl of fruit that has some yogurt underneath, “She is a runt, saviin--doesn’t mean I hate her for it. Besides, she tried to bite Djarin in the leg yesterday, so I guess she’s starting to grow on me.”

You huff a little at that as you savor the fresh berries, your taste buds still not used to such sweet food, and you shake your head at your Mandalorian, “You better not be training my sweet vulptex to attack others, Paz.”

“I would do no such thing,” Paz still sounds a little smug as he begins to put on all of his thick padding and heavy armor, “I’d only train her how to attack the bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he puts his armor on piece by piece, the same way he’s done it every morning for the last couple of days he’s been here. It must be a routine for him, you think as you watch him clip his pauldrons in place and work his way down his body; you find the whole process to be mesmerizing and you wonder if he’s been doing this every single day for nearly his entire life.

“I can feel you staring at me, cyare.”

You feel your cheeks warm up when you promptly turn your attention to the breakfast that Paz had kindly made for you, though you had insisted the previous mornings that you didn’t expect him to do this for you. Your heart warms when you remember how he had admitted that it made him happy to see you enjoy little basic necessities that you had been robbed of nearly your entire life and you stopped arguing after that.

Though it was only yogurt and fruit, you still felt like the most spoiled woman in the galaxy.

After completing your usual morning routine, along with braiding the top half of your hair around the crown of your head, you pick out your clothes for the day and scoop your needy little vulptex into the crook of your elbow, her favorite resting place, it seems.

“What am I going to do when she gets too big and I can’t carry her like this?”

Paz snorts as you wait for him to snap his gauntlets into place around his black, leather gloves, “If you didn’t spoil her so much and carry her around all the time, this wouldn’t be a problem, cyare.”

You pout a little at that, struggling not to smile when he gives your earlobe a playful tug once he’s finished with his big gauntlets, “Her leg is still sore--would you really be so heartless to make her walk around the covert?”

“She seemed to have no problem limping around until you showed up and started carrying her all over the place.”

Not having a solid rebuttal to the playful words, you simply shake your head and watch as he checks all the big pouches attached to his utility belt. Your eyes immediately land on the vibroblade sheathed at his hip and you let out a shaky sigh when you remember the Trandoshan, though Paz seems to notice the change in your attitude and shields that side of his body from you.

“C’mon cyare, we have a long day.”

Following close behind Paz, the two of you make your way out of his private quarters and down the tunnels where others are starting to trickle out of their rooms as well. You’ve come to find that with the exception of a few Mandos, the tribe tends to stick to a pretty strict routine of going to bed at a certain time and waking up earlier, though you find this to work out quite nicely for you. Whereas once you were getting two or three hours of sleep a night, along with maybe a thirty minute nap on your break, you now have the entire night to rest, even if you don’t always get the best sleep.

Perhaps he’s worried that you’ll get lost, even though you memorized the directions to your little office on the second day of being at the covert, but you allow Paz to guide you there anyways, grateful for his company when you know you won’t see him until tonight. Though you feel slightly sad upon making it to your destination, you’re somewhat anxious and eager to see what today brings you and who you might meet.

With a gentle kiss of his Beskar forehead against yours, you and the heavy-infantry warrior part ways for the day and you contentedly enter the little office that you had managed to clean up pretty well since your arrival. As you enter the little alcove, something feels off and you quickly detect the sounds of soft hums and discontented grunts.

You freeze upon finding out that you are not the only one occupying the room and your brows shoot up at the strange spectacle taking place in front of you.

In front of your desk, where you had placed a small pot of violets that you’d taken from the room Paz and Ima had decorated for you, is an unarmored Mandalorian who’s currently inspecting something you wrote down on a little notepad the previous day. Though the Mando is wearing a light grey helmet with chipped away emeral trimmings around the visor and cheeks, you think they must be one of the elders in the tribe, what with their hunched over form, wavering hands, and the long staff they wield.

You don’t miss the sharp, pointed tip of the walking stick that is made from what you’re certain is Beskar and you make sure to approach slowly, not wanting to frighten the Mandalorian, though the thought of you startling a warrior is slightly amusing to you.

They’re humming something that you can barely make out through their modulator and your lips instantly stretch into a faint grin when you realize they’re reading the little list you had started of all the Mandalorians you had met in the tribe so far, along with the colors of their armor and their names to help you memorize the people who are supposed to be your new family. You watch with curiosity as the unarmored Mandalorian grabs one of your pens from the little cup next to your notepad, leaning down to try to scribble something down, though they seem to grow frustrated with how shaky their hands are.

You decide to step in when you hear a disgruntled voice uttering curse words under their breath that you’ve never even heard Paz say before and your cheeks grow warm.

“Hello, may I help you?”

Immediately, the Mandalorian whips around with a small gasp, making you jump as well and you hastily take a few steps backwards when they turn around to face you, their hand pressed tight to where their heart must be frantically pounding, just like yours currently is. Your eyes are wide, hands nervously clutched together as the Mandalorian tilts their faded, scuffed up helmet to the side while observing you closely. Though you think they must be elderly, they stand about only one or two inches taller than you and you’re finally grateful to meet someone who isn’t terrifyingly large or as tiny as one of the younglings.

“You cannot sneak up on me like that!” He lightly admonishes in a deep, gruff voice, still holding his bare, wrinkled hand over his heart, “I am not nearly as alert as I used to be, but it doesn’t mean I can’t deal out some damage still.”

He lifts the staff to show you the pointed, steel bottom of it and you immediately nod your understanding, bowing your head a little, “Of course, I am so sorry! I wasn’t sure if you were hurt or not and I just thought…”

You bite your bottom lip nervously--what were you even thinking?

“Ah, I see,” He seems to relax then, pulling out the chair in front of your desk and sinking down into it with a pained grunt while you continue to wring your fingers together in an anxious manner, “So you must be my replacement--the nurse Paz insisted on bringing to the tribe.”

Maker, did your Mandalorian actually tell the entire damn tribe about you?

Your leg bounces as soon as you take a seat at the end of the medical cot and you brush a few unruly hairs from your forehead before speaking to the elderly man, “I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a replacement, sir. I’m sure I could never be as good of a medic as you are for your people. I’m just here to help out as much as I can.”

He chuckles and shakes his helmet at your humbled statement, propping his steel cane against his thigh and you feel a twinge of sadness deep within your soul as he stares down at his trembling hands. You notice his right hand is trembling more than the left and you think that must be his dominant hand--the one he would typically use for certain medical procedures--and you remember what Paz had mentioned about the tribe’s medic growing too ill and shaky to actually help others.

‘No wonder why the office was so dusty and everything was unused,’ you think to yourself sorrowfully, your eyes taking in all the big dents and scuff marks on his gray and crimson helmet.

“Hey, don’t give me those sad eyes, little one,” He admonishes you again and though you don’t remember having any kind of grandparent in your life, you think being scolded by this man must be what it feels like to have one, “I was told by Paz that you are a tough one--a warrior, just like us.”

You offer him a wry smile, “I suppose he didn’t tell you that I tend to cry quite a bit as well?”

“Oh, he definitely mentioned that,” The Mandalorian chortles and you can’t help but to grin at that, immediately feeling better at how playful he sounds, “I was hoping he was messing around with me--our people aren’t exactly the best with tears and emotions, but I suppose it is not a bad thing. During times like these, the tribe could use a little more happiness and vulnerability.”

You contemplate his words deeply, thinking of the few times Paz had informed you that because of the Empire, his people were nearly extinct and you wonder how this stranger could so easily accept you into the tribe without really knowing you. Seeing how worn out and damaged his dented helmet is, you can’t help but to wonder what he’s been through and though he seems to be more of an eccentric member of the tribe, you’re certain he’s been through hell and back.

“If you do not mind me asking--” You offer him a fond gaze, your smile growing when he tilts his helmet dramatically to the side, his Beskar cheek nearly touching his shoulder, “May I have your name? I am trying to learn who everyone is, but the visors are all the same and sometimes the color of armor is similar and--”

“I get it,” The older man sounds like he’s amused and you briefly wonder if he was once an outsider like you, though you find it rude to ask, “I was about to write it in your little notebook, but I fear my hands are too unsteady for you to understand my writing, little one.”

You perk up and quickly stand up, making your way over to where he’s sitting before you crouch down in front of your desk and grab one of the several pens in the little cup near your notebook. The Mandalorian makes a funny noise as you give him an inquisitive glance, wordlessly asking for his name with a quirk of your brow and though he wears a typical Mandalorian helmet, you think he must be grinning underneath his Beskar guise.

“Ezir Ralas.”

You somehow manage to write down his name as fast as he spells it out for you and you grin at how demanding he sounds upon spelling every single letter out and how he describes the exact colors of his faded helmet. There’s something about his lighthearted tone that makes you think he’s not as intimidating as every other warrior you’ve encountered since being brought to the covert.

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, sir,” You beam at him as you make your way back to the medical cot to sit on while you wait for your first patient of the day, “Have you been the tribe’s nurse for very long?”

He chuckles again, long fingers curling against his knees, “Oh yes, I’ve been with the tribe since we were forced into hiding years ago. Before all of this, however, I was a field medic for my people on Mandalore, back during our civil war.”

“Oh, I um, I had no idea there was a civil war,” You frown at this new information, briefly wondering if Paz knows about this, though you think he must, “That must have been so scary to be out there on a battlefield, trying to save your own people.”

He lets out a small grunt as he leans forward to rest his forearms atop his thighs, “Even though I am a medic, I was also born and raised a fighter, little one. Though the things I have seen haunt me at night when I cannot sleep, I would not so willingly admit that I was ever afraid.”

You slowly nod and gaze down at the steel pendant that hangs between his collarbones and you recognize it as the one you often see around the covert, or in the morning when Paz tucks his own into the collar of his tunic. Seeming to recognize your curiosity towards the skull sigil, he unties the knot at his nape and holds out the necklace for you to inspect up close.

With great eagerness, you reach forward to accept the kind gesture, “Is it rude of me to ask what this is?”

“It is not rude,” Ezir sounds amused by your curiosity and your cheeks grow warm as you trace over the sharp horns protruding from the cheeks of the skull with your thumbs, “It is the skull of a beast that was once native to Mandalore--the mythosaur. They were these enormous monsters with teeth and horns sharper than a sword made of Beskar and when they tried to attack my ancestors, we either slayed them or conquered them and rode them as transportation.”

“How big were they?”

“Massive,” He flippantly waves a hand in the air, appearing far too nonchalant while speaking of terrifying beasts, “Well, I would imagine they’re the size of the village currently above us, little one.”

Your eyes grow wide and a chuckle escapes past his modulator at how incredulous you sound, “And you’re ancestors fought them?”

“Without hesitation,” He informs you and though the image of a monster so fearsome and enormous terrifies you, it also fills you with feelings of reverence and awe, “After the beasts went extinct, the mythosaur skull became a symbol of our people and all that we had overcome; it is a symbol of our history and culture.”

You hum quietly, barely noticing the way his tilted visor is trained on the way you tenderly trace all the curves and divots of the pendant with admiration, a smile tugging at your lips as you think of the symbolism behind the sigil. Suddenly, you understand why people have always murmured terrifying rumors of the Beskar-clad enigmas and you think it must be true that they’re the strongest warriors in the galaxy. You wonder what it must feel like to exude such power to the point where people fear you without even knowing who you are and though you still regret feeling so much terror upon initially meeting Paz, you’re suddenly grateful that you’d eventually let him into your heart.

“Perhaps one day, you will have one of your own,” Ezir concedes and your head snaps up to peer at him with shock; you hand the pendant back out for him to take, feeling undeserving to be holding something so precious to his people, “Oh, don’t give me that look. You may not wear our helmet or armor, but once I teach you some Mando’a and get a weapon in your hand, you’ll be a fearsome warrior.”

You think of what Paz had mentioned about the others in the tribe teaching you Mando’a, and while you’ve only known him for a few minutes, he seems to be a respectful man, albeit a little quirky.

“What does riduur mean?” You blurt out, your skin instantly growing warm when you see Ezir’s shoulders shaking as he laughs at the innocent question; suddenly, you fear that everyone has been saying something demeaning about you, “I just... everyone in the tribe keeps calling me ‘Paz’s riduur’ and I--it’s not an insult, right? They’re always laughing when they say it.”

He shakes his head as his laughter eventually ceases, “No, little one, it is quite the opposite of an insult, but rather a term of endearment. I do not think it is my place to tell you what it means and I am not sure if Paz has the guts to actually tell you, but I can say that I am certain you will find out for yourself one day when he calls you that himself.”

Your leg bounces anxiously as you watch him situate his mythosaur pendant between his collarbones and as you think of all the meanings that the word possibly possesses, one stands out to you the most.

“Is it something I would be allowed to say to him as well in the future?”

“Yes,” He reaches down to pet your vulptex that’s awkwardly making her way towards his boots, sounding utterly entertained by your inquiry, “Though I cannot promise you that his brain wouldn’t combust if he heard you call him that.”

“Then perhaps I would call him that as payback for all the times he’s teased me about certain things.”

Ezir guffaws at that, remaining diligent in petting the lazy vulptex that’s headbutting his calf in a needy manner, “I like you, little one. I almost didn’t believe Ima when she told me you had stopped the fight between Din and Paz, let alone when she informed me that you had stood up for yourself and the bounty hunter.”

You watch as the older man awkwardly scoops the little vulptex into his arms and you’re grateful that not many seem to mind her presence in the covert, as you’re not sure what you would have done had you been forced to get rid of her.

“I have been belittled by men all my life,” You shyly admit, staring at the little creature that’s reaching up in an attempt to bite his pendant, though Ezir doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest as you continue, “And for the longest time, I just learned to keep my mouth shut and deal with it because that’s just the way I was raised, I suppose. These last couple of days have taught me that it does not make me a bad person for only wanting to be treated with respect and my only regret is that I did not realize this sooner in life. Perhaps I’d be a stronger woman if I had realized my worth at a younger age.”

No longer is Ezir petting the vulptex, but instead, he now has his visor trained on you and in return, you offer him a small smile. He remains deathly silent for at least a minute before giving you a curt nod, as though he approves of either you or just your declaration in general.

“In our language, we have a word that I think perfectly describes you, little one,” His gruff, filtered voice drops to something softer as he watches you perk up with curiosity, “Ramikadyc--it means that you have the tenacity and determination of a Mandalorian, that you have our mindset.”

Your heart instantly swells with gratitude and you shyly cross your ankles together as you wring your fingers together on top of your lap, “I would hardly compare myself to your people. I do not think I would have the tenacity or determination to fight against one of those mythosaurs that your ancestors slayed.”

“Something tells me you and I are not too different,” Ezir informs you with what you think is mirth laced within his deep voice, “I do not think you would hesitate to put yourself in harm’s way if it meant protecting someone you care for or someone you do not wish to see to get hurt.”

You smile softly and give him a slight nod as you think of the bounty hunter that you had stood up for, despite him not deserving it, or even your little vulptex that you had taken a blaster shot for. If Ezir truly thinks that you have the heart of a warrior, then he must be saying it for a good reason and his words, along with Ima’s and Paz’s confidence in you, fills you with a little more hope in regards to your future with the tribe.

“Will you tell me more about you?”

“I am afraid my stories might bore you to the point of insanity,” Ezir chuckles, shifting in his seat a little so he can hold your vulptex in a more comfortable position, “But since you seem so curious, what is it you wish to know, little one?”

“Can you tell me more about Mandalore and the civil--?”

Before you can finish, a deep baritone from the entrance of your office interrupts your inquiry and both you and Ezir immediately turn around to find your blue Mandalorian standing tall behind another unarmored Mando, though this one is still taller than you and Ezir. The smaller Mando is holding their wrist protectively against their chest and it takes a few seconds for you to recognize the warrior as one of the younger ones that seems to have a knack for constantly getting hurt during training.

“Saviin’ika,” Paz greets politely with a slight nod, cocking his helmet to the side upon noticing who’s been keeping you company in the short amount of time you two have been apart, “Ezir.”

You raise your brows at the way your warrior tenses up a little upon seeing the elderly man, though you manage to get in a word before any of the Mandalorians can say anything, your attention focused on the injured boy.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

The unarmored Mando peers up at Paz with what you think must be a wary expression through his visor--something that your warrior immediately picks up on. With absolutely no hesitation, the heavy-infantry warrior murmurs something to the younger Mando in his native tongue and you raise your head with anticipation and a kind smile. As though that’s all the confirmation of the young teenager--Vhan--needs, he nods a little and you slide off the end of the cot so your first patient of the day can sit down.

You give the boy a small, encouraging smile as he takes his glove off and pushes up his sleeve to reveal a swollen wrist, “What happened?”

“It was my fault,” Paz says immediately, making you raise your brows in surprise at the thought of him somehow hurting someone so young, “He was sparring with his brother and I looked away for a minute. He fell and landed right on his wrist.”

You frown a little at the guilt in his voice, though judging by the exasperated sigh that wafts past Vhan’s modulator, you think this must be a common occurrence amongst the younger ones who get hurt on Paz’s watch.

“Well, it’s hard to tell for sure without x-rays,” You manage to rotate Vhan’s wrist in the slightest, a gesture that seems to cause minimal pain to the boy, “But it looks like it’s just a minor sprain, since there seems to be no crooked bones and you can still move it around a little. Nothing too serious and nothing to feel bad about.”

Paz lets out a relieved huff at the news, though you know your blue warrior enough to know he’s not going to let the guilt down so easily, especially not when it pertains to one of the younger members of the tribe. A knowing grin stretches your lips when Vhan groans, and now you’re certain this isn’t the first time Paz has been worried like a mother hen over the clumsy teen. Though the blue warrior has quite the reputation among all the adults in the covert, it seems he also has a completely different persona when he’s with the younger ones.

“See? I told you it’s fine. Can I go back to training now?” Vhan insists, moving to hop off of the cot, though you are quicker to stop him by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Uh uh,” You shake your head, earning another groan from the teen and what you’re sure are surprised expressions from the two other men occupying the room, “Just because it’s a sprain doesn’t mean you can go running off just to damage it even further. You should at least rest it for forty-eight hours and put some ice on it every thirty minutes for two hours until the pain goes away. Also try to keep it elevated as much as possible.”

“That’s so much work for a little sprain though!” Vhan argues and you let out a soft sigh as you begin to compress his wrist with a thick bandage, “Can’t I just--”

“Hey!” Ezir suddenly sounds annoyed, and you’re surprised when the boy tenses up a little, just as Paz had earlier, and something about their reactions has you growing even more curious to what kind of reputation the elder has among his family, “Listen to the nurse, di’kut. She only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yes sir,” Vhan mumbles, though you can tell he’s still not happy about it when he turns his visor to you, “S-Sorry, Saviin’ika.”

You blink your surprise at him calling you the familiar nickname, but eventually you give him a kind smile and stand up to retrieve your roll of ice wraps, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure it must be difficult for you to miss out on training, but it really is for your own good. I don’t have the resources here to fix your wrist if it was seriously broken, so it’s detrimental to make sure that the sprain heals properly before doing any serious training again. Perhaps there is… um, maybe something else you can do in the meantime that’s not too strenuous?”

He perks up a little and hope instantly flares in your chest as he gives you an eager nod before turning to look at Paz, “You told me the other day that you would show me how to take apart an assault rifle and put it back together--would that be okay?”

Paz glances at you and the boy’s eager tone makes it hard for you to say no, so you give your warrior a reluctant nod as you finish tying the ice wrap around his swollen wrist, “Just as long as you make sure to not move your wrist around too much and keep the ice wrap on, okay?”

“Alright!” He’s instantly hopping off the cot and you chuckle at his newfound excitement, “Thanks vod’ika!”

You huff a little, opening your mouth to stubbornly remind him that you’re far older than him, though he cuts you off with a quick headbutt to your forehead; while it’s not too harsh of a harsh gesture, it’s certainly not as gentle as all the times Paz has performed the same action. You rub your tender forehead as Paz turns to the side a little so Vhan can make his way, presumably, to the armory. Paz shakes his helmet in an exasperated manner as he steps toward you, most likely to get a look at your forehead, but Ezir’s small grunts as he slowly stands up has your full attention.

Instinctively, you move to help the elder up from your office chair, noticing his slight struggle to stand and you force yourself not to cringe at the numerous pops and cracks coming from his knees and back. After a lifetime of fighting and being a medic, you’re certain it’s taken a toll on him, though he simply chuckles a little and pats your back as you both make your way over to Paz.

“I suppose I should take this as my sign to leave you to your duties for the day, verd’ika,” You beam at the new nickname as he carefully grabs onto your elbow for better balance while you lead him to the entrance where Paz is still standing with a cocked helmet, “I’ll have to look for my old medical books and datapads for you to read.”

“Oh, thank you!” Happiness and warmth instantly blankets your heart at his consideration, gratitude filling your soul when you realize that he seems to approve of you being the tribe’s new nurse, “I would love that very much, if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

“Of course not,” He gives your hand a little pat before latching onto a grumpy Paz’s elbow instead, “I’ll just make this one help me later since he can reach the higher shelves.”

“I have other things to--”

Jutting a thumb out in your direction over his shoulder, Ezir sends a rough little whack! of his walking stick to Paz’s armored shin, “It is good she is here with the tribe now--perhaps she can teach you and everyone else some manners, you big brute.”

“Yeah, ori kebiin,” You giggle in a teasing manner, earning a small grunt from the blue warrior, “Would it really kill you to learn a few manners?”

Ezir lets out a loud laugh that has Paz shaking his helmet at you, and though you know you’ll soon regret it, you think it’s worth the delightful torment he’ll inflict on you later when the two of you are alone. Without another word, Paz reaches out to give your nape a tender squeeze before leaving you alone to your thoughts in your little office, though you think that seeing Ezir and helping Vhan has already given you a bright start to your day.

With a faint smile stretched along your lips, you add a few comments to your little notepad and take inventory of the supplies you have and what you need for the next time Paz goes on a supply run. For the most part, the day goes by slowly and uneventfully--something you are actually grateful for, what with being so used to the chaos that came as a result of working in a village full of crime and those with cruel hearts.

Needless to say, you don’t mind a calm day in the slightest and when Ima passes your office hours later to politely inform you that training and sparring lessons are done for the day, you’re grateful that no serious injuries were sustained. Packing up your things and making sure your office is in order, you turn off the lights and exit your office, eager to explore the covert a little more and go to the room that Paz and Ima had decorated for you.

After conversing with a few of the Mandalorians you had befriended in the short amount of time you’ve been at the covert, you happily make your way down the stairs that you know leads to everyone’s private quarters, as well as the nursery and your little flower alcove.

You hum a mindless tune to yourself as you stroll down the long tunnel, smiling when the atmosphere gets a little warmer when you pass the shielded alcove that leads into the nursery; your walking slows a little and you’re half tempted to go inside and say hi to the little ones, though you don’t want to cause any chaos again, especially so late in the day. Reluctantly, you continue past the nursery and make your way to the little room Paz and Ima had decorated with your flowers, your vulptex resting comfortably in your arms as you two seek out relaxation.

“I need to think of a name for you, little one,” You murmur, earning a soft gaze from her, crimson eyes slowly blinking up at you, “Maybe I should ask one of the younglings to come up with one. They must be far more creative than me.”

She simply answers you with a dramatic huff as you continue down the path that Paz had already taken you down a few times.

You’re completely oblivious to the little footsteps following you far behind.

Finally, you make it to your beloved sanctuary and let out a relieved sigh upon seeing all your growing flowers and the lights that hang above them. Placing your little vulptex on the center of the desk where you had placed a little pillow for her, you dutifully water the plants and flowers that look like they need it the most. It’s comforting to have a little place of your own, especially after dealing with so many of the boisterous warriors all day and while you feel as though you’re slowly getting used to their antics, you realize you truly had no idea what you were getting yourself into upon agreeing to be the tribe’s nurse.

A small smile quirks at the corners of your lips as you feel the tiniest ache in your temple where the younger Mandalorian had headbutted his gratitude a little too roughly earlier, though warmth fills your heart when you remember how he had referred to you as his sister.

You’re in the middle of checking on your little violets when your vulptex raises her head in a jolting manner; immediately, you turn around, expecting Paz or perhaps Ima needing you to tend to someone’s wound.

It is neither one of them, you realize with surprise.

You let out a little gasp upon seeing a pair of wide, fearful eyes poking from the tiny crack between the curtains and the doorway and you instantly recognize the sad, golden brown orbs from days ago in the nursery.

“Oh, it’s okay, little one!” You give him a warm smile that instantly seems to allay some of the despair in his big eyes, “You may come in, if you’d like.”

Hesitantly, he makes his way into the unfamiliar room, looking like a lost animal that’s experiencing a new environment for the first time and you think you know the feeling all too well; even after spending a few days at the covert, you still feel quite lost and you can’t possibly imagine what this child is going through.

You blink your surprise when he gets halfway across the room before spotting your lazy vulptex who is still curled up on your desk, staring at the boy curiously, though not unkindly in the slightest. Carefully, you make your way closer to the little who simply stares up at you with wide starry eyes, his hands clasped together politely in front of him and your heart melts at how nervous and scared he seems.

“It’s okay, little one,” You reassure him in a calm, hushed tone, reaching your hand out for him to take, “She loves younglings very much and would never hurt you, I promise.”

The curly-haired boy shifts his gaze between you and your rocky companion before ultimate latching onto your hand with his. Cautiously and without any force, you guide him closer to your desk where the vulptex is still observing the little boy with gentle eyes; you think that on top of being intelligent, her species must also be quite empathetic and can differentiate a kind soul from a dark one.

“Is it okay if I pick you up?” You question the boy softly, earning you a shy nod as an answer, and you carefully haul him up to the chair in front of your desk, keeping a hand pressed to the back of his shoulders to keep him steady, should he stumble, “If you want to hold your hand out to sniff it, it’ll be a sign that you want to be her friend.”

His eyes widen a little more and you can’t help but to grin as he holds a shaking hand out for the rocky vulpine to sniff eagerly, his other hand pressed shyly to his cheek in anticipation. A tiny, childish giggle meets your ears and warms your heart as the vulptex licks his palm, though he is quick to pull his damp hand back and wipe it on his beige tunic with a scrunched up expression. When he smiles up at you, you’re certain your heart is going to melt into a big puddle of goo in the pit of your stomach and you offer him one in return, smoothing his dark, unruly curls away from his forehead.

“See? She knows you’re brave and likes you now.”

He gives you a toothy grin and you feel a lovely warmth in your soul knowing that you were able to provide some emotional reprieve for the sweet child.

“Did you sneak away from the nursery, little one?” You ask him gently, not wanting him to think you’re upset with him at all; he simply drops his head in shame and you continue to stroke his curls in an attempt to comfort him, “It’s okay! You’re not in trouble, I promise. I just want to know why.”

For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to answer as he keeps his head lowered, but then he eventually peers up at you and whispers his response in a tiny, meek voice.

“Y-You were singing,” He explains quietly, and you realize he must have heard you humming and followed you all the way here, “‘M sorry.”

“Hey, no, none of that,” You crouch down in front of him so he’s taller than you while he stands on your chair and you give him a kind smile, “It’s okay, but how about next time you just ask the caretaker on duty, alright? They’ll come find me, wherever I may be.”

He gives you a shy nod, seeming thoughtful for a few moments as he presses a chubby index finger to his pouting lips, “Do I have to go back?”

You should say yes and you know it, but his eyes are all but pleading with you to say no and he looks so hopeful that you’ll let him keep you company. You think he must feel just as out of place as you do, not knowing who to talk to or who to trust, though you seem to be the one person he finds solace in.

How could you destroy that tiny amount of trust he already has in you?

You give him a tiny smile and shake your head, “You may stay for a little while, but I fear I do not make for the most exciting company, little one.”

The boy doesn’t say anything to that and you blink your surprise when he reaches out to clumsily touch the thick braid wrapped around your crown, along with the few flowers that you had strategically placed throughout the weaves that morning when Paz had been watching you. He seems curious by the vibrant flora, his eyes blinking and flickering with awe and you bow your head a little so he can get a better look at them.

“Do you like flowers?” You ask him quietly when he eventually ceases his exploration, and you look up to see him giving you a shy little nod, “What’s your favorite kind?”

You expect him to not know many, especially if he’s spent his few years of life on Nevarro, though he surprises you when he speaks in a barely there whisper, “I like roses--like the ones my ‘gramma used to paint.”

You’re desperately inclined to ask more about his grandmother--if he had any parents and what planet he had been saved from, but if he’s the covert’s newest foundling, the wounds on his heart and mind must still be so fresh and you do not wish to infect it further with your invasive questions. Instead, you force yourself to give him a warm, big smile and somehow manage to keep the tears out of your eyes when his chubby fingers find the little blue flower that Paz had tucked behind your ear earlier in the morning.

“Yeah? I bet they were beautiful,” You grin and he gives you a fervent little nod to confirm your thoughts, “What color roses did she paint?”

And what you thought was only going to be a ten or twenty minute interaction with the boy ends up to be more than an hour and a half long meeting where the two of you talk about harmless topics like flowers, favorite animals, different types of stars and constellations. Though for once, you do most of the talking and you are more than satisfied to describe the beautiful hot springs and caves that Paz had taken you to, sparing all the mushy details that you knew would probably gross out a child.

“He’s scary,” The boy murmurs as you tell him of the story, at least the clean version, of how Paz had stood up for you the night you first found your vulptex, “They all are--they don’t smile.”

“Well of course they do,” You inform the little one, curling a finger against his cheek and earning a tiny giggle, “Everyone smiles, you just can’t see it because they wear their helmets to honor their creed. It does not mean they are robots or incapable of feeling the same emotions we do.”

He’s perched on one of your thighs, seeming comfortable as he softly pets the sleeping vulptex and you smile down at him sympathetically upon realizing he’s still apprehensive of the armored warriors, “I was scared of Paz at first too, but he turned out to be one of the kindest, most honorable men I have ever met. These people are not cruel, but I understand why you are afraid, little one. I have only been here for three days and I am still learning how to fit in as well. Perhaps we can figure this out together.”

He gives you another toothy grin and nods, seeming comforted by your words as he leans back into you and your heart aches at the trust he shows in you; a part of you wonders if it’s because he can actually see your face. You’re not entirely sure of what to say as he continues to pet the sleepy animal, smiling whenever he hears the soft squeaks that the vulptex lets out every now and then.

“Do you have a name little one?” You ask kindly--tenderly--hoping that the question won’t overwhelm him as he tilts his head to stare up at you.

You truly don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then after a few moments of silence, he lowers his head a little, not looking you in the eyes.

“Odisian.”

“Odisian... what a lovely name,” You repeat it with a grin, earning a shy smile from him, “Is it okay if I call you Odi? Or do you prefer your full name?”

Suddenly, he beams up at you and kicks his legs a little, as if having a nickname makes him feel more at home, “I like Odi!”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how big you’re smiling at him and you nod, deciding it’s best not to dwell too much on his own name or what nicknames he might have had before being brought to the covert. You straighten your spine a little and reach out to pet your little vulptex who keens under all the adoration and attention she’s suddenly receiving from you and the little one.

“Would you like to pick out a name for her?” You ask him softly, tilting your head to the side when he gives you an expression filled with awe and wonder, like he can’t believe you are asking him to do such a thing, “She needs one and I do not think I am creative enough to bestow her with such an honor.”

Odi swings his legs nervously and you can’t help but to grin as he seems to seriously contemplate this huge decision, his tiny hand squeezing his cheeks together in great concentration. You remain patient with him as he turns his head a little to stare at all the flowers on your desk and the colorful vines that are draping off the edge of the shelves attached to the wall with admiration.

“Rosie?”

He says it more as a question, like he’s nervous for your response, so you offer him a warm grin when you realize this sweet child wants to name your vulptex after his own favorite flower. You wonder if he somehow knows just how much your flowers mean to you, just as Paz does, or if the flower simply has some sort of deeper meaning to him and you playfully ruffle his curls, earning you a little giggle from him.

“That is far more lovely of a name than I could ever come up for her,” You inform him, your cheeks hurting from how big of a smile you’re wearing on your face and he perks up at your reassurance, no longer seeming quite as nervous, “Her eyes are red like roses too! Is red your favorite color?”

“I like yellow,” He bashfully admits, and you nearly chuckle at the way he pronounces his ‘L’s as ‘W’s, “It is a happy color.”

You agree with him as you begin to collect some flowers for the little boy, though a part of you lamely thinks he probably doesn’t even want them. You’re in the process of pointing out all the different flowers that Paz and Ima had been so kind to plant for you in anticipation of your arrival when the drapes to your alcove shuffle to the side a little.

You’re completely unaware of how long your blue warrior is standing in the entryway, simply observing you and the little one perched contently on top of your leg who seems utterly interested in what you have to tell him about the healing properties of violets and lavender.

“Oh! And then this one right here, if you just grind it up and add it into--”

“Cyare.”

Immediately, you and Odi both turn to face where Paz is standing just feet away in front of the rounded entrance, though the little one in your arms is quick to lower his head in fear of the massive warrior. Wanting the youngling to feel more comfortable, you simply smile up at Paz, who suddenly seems frozen to his spot as he stares at you with a cocked helmet, his shoulders tense as his pauldrons inch closer to the bottom of his helmet.

“Is something wrong, Paz?”

“No, it’s just--” His helmet slightly jolts to the side and he’s acting odd as you gently heave Odi off of your lap, offering him the little bundle of flowers so he won’t feel so lonely without you by his side, “It is time for the younglings to sleep and the caretaker on duty got scared because he was missing. I thought you might know where he is and it seems as though I was right.”

Odi is staring up at you with the saddest expression, as though he’s pleading with you to not return him back to the nursery and you gently cup the back of his curls, giving him a kind smile in return. Nervously, he fiddles with his hands as you stand up, easily scooping your vulptex into the crook of your elbow, all while the little one stares up at Paz with the most frightened expression you’ve ever witnessed, hiding behind your leg.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere and you’re more than welcome to visit me anytime,” You offer him a reassuring smile as he gazes down at the little bouquet of flowers and he is quick to grab your outstretched hand with an eager expression, “C’mon, I’ll walk you back. Besides, he likes flowers too--I bet he would like it if you gave him one.”

You say the last sentence in a low whisper, as though you’re sharing some sort of gossip with him and you instantly notice the way he perks up as Paz holds the drapes to the side for you, his helmet still tilted to the side as he observes you two. Odi is still quiet and thoughtful as he stares down at the little bundle of colorful flowers you had gifted him, all while holding your hand as Paz slowly leads you through the dim tunnels.

Shyly, the child gazes up at Paz and warmth blooms in your heart and soul when he lowers his helmet to regard Odi with what you’re certain is the utmost kindness, most likely wanting nothing more than to earn the boy’s trust. Without saying anything, the little one holds up the colorful bouquet of flowers for Paz to see and you grin at the adorable interaction.

"Those are... pretty,” Paz comments in a softer voice and you can tell he’s trying to appear as placid as possible to the nervous boy, “Which one is your favorite?”

Odi lets go of your hand to press his index finger to his bottom lip in severe contemplation and you nearly chuckle at what must be a cute little habit that he does unknowingly when he’s thinking too hard. After a moment’s consideration, he points a chubby finger at one of the many violets that you had tucked in the center and you instantly grin.

“Those are my favorite too,” Paz says quietly, and you’re too focused on the way Odi is smiling down at the little bouquet to notice the Mandalorian’s visor trained on your face.

Odi seems conflicted as he gently tugs one of the violets from the middle of the colorful bundle and offers it to the huge warrior with a hopeful gaze, not saying a word throughout the entire exchange.

“What an honor,” Paz sounds like he's grinning as he accepts the little flower and Odi immediately seeks out your hand again, “Thank you.”

The youngling peers up at you with a cheerful glimmer in his eye, as though he’s proud of himself for showing such bravery and selflessness in the presence of a powerful warrior. Once you offer him a knowing smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand, Odi turns to gaze down at his colorful bouquet with a tiny grin on his face.

Content upon realizing the little one no longer seems sad or fearful, you tilt your head up to beam happily at Paz, your heart still full of love and admiration towards both him and Odi; immediately the warrior lifts his hand to tenderly stroke your cheek. The cold bite of leather nearly makes you flinch and suddenly you’re remorseful that both of your hands are occupied by your littlest companions as you now long to touch the lighter blue in the hollows of his cheeks.

It’s not until you make it back to the nursery that Odi’s smile drops and his lips form into a little pout. Paz presses his gloved hand to the small of your back to guide you further into the nursery and through a short tunnel leading the four of you to where the younglings must sleep and take their naps.

“Hey,” You whisper after the four of you enter a dimly lit room with several beds lined up; you notice the tiny lumps curled up underneath the fuzzy blankets and smile as you crouch down in front of Odi, “Remember what I said, okay? You ever want to come see me, just ask one of the caretakers. I’ll always be here for you.”

He nods, and before you can even think about standing up, he steps forward to wrap his tiny arms around your neck and you’re quick to return the sweet gesture, your free hand coming up to gently cup the back of his head. You feel his chubby fingers curl into the hair you had left unbraided that morning and smile when he holds onto you a little tighter; you can tell he’s still afraid of you leaving as an idea pops into your head.

“Since Rosie seems to like you so much, why don’t I leave her here with you for the night?” Immediately, he pulls away from you, his starry eyes wide and filled with disbelief as you gently shuffle the lazy vulpine into his awaiting arms, “She may be small, but she’s a fierce little thing that will protect you from any nightmares you may have, I promise.”

He holds the animal closer to his chest, grinning when she lifts her head to lick at his cheek and Odi instantly giggles in response. He gives you one last shy smile before making his way to his little bed and you stand up to your full height as you watch him shuffle underneath his blankets, all while holding Rosie close to his chest. It’s not until you watch his eyes close that you let out a deep exhale and you wonder when you had stopped breathing; tears nearly escape your eyes when you watch Rosie curl herself closer to the child, head tucked underneath his chin as he smiles sleepily.

“Ner cyare,” Paz whispers and you jump a little, nearly forgetting that he had been standing there this whole time; you turn to face him and you give him a questioning look when he threads his fingers through the valleys between yours, “There is something I want to show you.”

You think when he says ‘something’, he most likely means ‘someone’, and your heart thrums wildly in anticipation as he leads you away from the younglings’ sleeping quarters. The alcove he’s leading you to is the one he had popped out of a few days ago after you confronted him after the fight, you realize, and you wonder what could possibly be in the room that he seems so excited to show you.

You blink owlishly at him as he politely holds the drapes to the side for you and you hesitantly enter the warm room; instantly, another Mandalorian with black and yellow armor turns to face you and Paz. Before you can offer the stranger an affable greeting, a soft whimper cuts you off and your heart instantly freezes over when you spot a wooden crib in the corner of the dim room.

An infant…

There is an infant in the covert and the thought simultaneously terrifies you and breaks your heart.

Paz quietly says something in his mother tongue when the caretaker on duty tenses as you step forward to try to get a better look at the distressed infant, your heart now pounding so wildly that you hear it in your ears. Whatever Paz said to the caretaker immediately seems to calm them down and they simply watch as you observe the fussy baby that is kicking its little feet wildly and growing even more distressed. The infant is wearing tiny white socks and a long, dark brown tunic that falls to her ankles; her little head is adorned with a white beanie, but you see dark tufts of hair poking out from underneath.

“I… I cannot get her to stop crying,” The Mandalorian’s deep, filtered voice is coated with exhaustion and despite the tears burning your eyes, you fixate your attention on the defeated Mando, the vibrancy of the yellow stripes painted on his black armor nearly hurting your eyes, “What am I doing wrong?”

You wonder if he’s ever had to take care of an infant before, but judging by the way the black and yellow Mando shuffles around nervously makes you think it is not all too common of an occurrence in the tribe.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, shaking off your fears and insecurities as you remind yourself that you were brought here to take care of others, “O-Okay, how old is she?”

“I only found her a few weeks ago, cyare,” Paz informs you quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby even more, and you turn around to gaze up at him with wide, watery eyes; he must see the confusion etched on your features because he immediately explains himself, “I was walking back from seeing you one night and found her abandoned behind one of the vendors in the marketplace. I can’t… I can’t imagine what kind of monster does such a thing.”

You know all too well of the monsters that are capable of leaving a helpless creature behind to die, most likely feeling no guilt when they close their eyes at night.

You nod again and let out a shaky exhale as the caretaker turns his body to the side and allows you to lean over the crib, your chest aching something fierce as you carefully scoop up the tiny creature into your arms. Instantly, she lets out with a piercing, shrill scream and you heave a small sigh at how fussy of a little thing she is, though you think you already know what her problem is.

“What are you--?”

The strange Mandalorian jolts forward a little as you shuffle the crying baby around in your arms until her chest and stomach is resting against the inside of your forearm, her arms and chubby legs dangling lazily around in the air and her cheek tucked against the crook of your elbow. It takes a few moments of tenderly stroking her back to get her cries to soften into something less ear shattering, and you let out a relieved sigh when her whimpers turn into little coos and grunts.

“I think she might be colic,” You inform the caretaker with a shaky whisper, his helmet tilted to the side with what you think is either curiosity or shock as she dribbles, “I’ve uh, I’ve seen this before and read about it. Are you making sure to burp her after each feeding? Or perhaps she should be using a different formula if she has a sensitive tummy?”

“I--” He drops his helmet a little, staring at the cooing infant that you’re bouncing a little, “She wasn’t spitting anything up and I just thought… I wasn’t sure how to do it, how to burp her.”

You give the black and yellow Mando a sympathetic expression and nod, your eyes still burning with tears, “Babies can be pretty fussy sometimes, but once you find out how they like to be held and handled, it makes things a little bit easier. This tends to be a good trick at calming a lot of babies, but you need to make sure she gets burped after every feeding or else she’ll be really uncomfortable and even fussier than normal.”

“Thank you,” The caretaker nods his gratitude as you continue to stroke her back and you give him a weak smile in response, “Could you maybe get her to go to sleep? I should check on the others and I--”

‘Need a breather.’

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you hear it in the way his deep voice drops and his shoulders fall at the mere thought of having a few moments of peace and relaxation.

He fidgets when you hesitate, though Paz places a gentle hand on your nape and he must realize that something is wrong as he squeezes the warm skin there; it’s something he only does when he’s trying to comfort you. Afraid that your voice will fail you, you offer the caretaker a jittery nod and he wastes no time in leaving the nursery that’s dedicated to this tiny infant.

You find it difficult to even look at Paz as you make your way over to the rocking chair that seems far too small for any Mandalorian and slowly sink down until you’re sitting comfortably with a cooing, sleepy baby tucked in your arms. A soft sigh escapes your lungs when you feel a little bit of drool soak through the material covering your elbow and you risk a glance at Paz when he gets down on a knee next to the rocking chair, his gloved hand moving to gently squeeze your bicep.

“What happened?” He questions as quietly as possible, warranting a tiny grunt from the irascible infant, “Why are you so sad all of a sudden?”

The way he asks such a question so softly instantly leaves you feeling painfully raw and vulnerable and you are quick to shoulder away a tear before he can wipe it away for you; you shake your head viciously, “It’s nothing.”

“Cyare--”

“I will explain later.”

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod and retrieves a piece of cloth for you as you move the calmed baby to burp her against your shoulder. You can tell he wants to say something as you pat her between the shoulders, but he remains silent and tilts his helmet to the side upon hearing the infant gurgle and do her business against the cloth draped over your shoulder. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep once she’s burped up all the air and spit from her meal and you let out a grateful sigh when you watch her eyelids slowly droop, somewhat eager to get her out of your arms and into her crib.

Once she’s comfortable in her cradle and fast asleep, you are quick to exit the little alcove, Paz hot on your heels as you practically storm past the exhausted-looking caretaker who’s sitting on a stone ledge in the main play area.

“Hey thank you for--”

You’re out of the nursery before he can fully express his gratitude to you and you hear Paz mutter something to the caretaker before rushing after you. Halfway down the tunnel leading to his private quarters, Paz catches up to you and carefully wraps his leather-clad fingers around your bicep, turning you around to face him.

“Cyare! What’s going--?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You don’t even realize you’re sobbing until you hear your own voice and Paz’s other hand comes to squeeze your shoulder in a comforting manner, “Wh-Why didn’t you tell me there was a baby and why would you make me…? I didn’t know and... Maker, she was so much like--”

Your chest is heaving, tears streaming from your cheeks like raging waterfalls and Paz gently pulls you to the side and covers you when another Mandalorian passes you two, giving you what you’re certain is a curious gaze. He cups a massive hand to the side of your neck and leans down as you continue to sob and babble incoherent pleas at him, wondering why he’d put you through this, though he truly had no idea what he had done to you.

“I-I am sorry, cyare,” He breathes, squeezing your bicep firmly with his other hand, “You seemed to love the little ones so much and I thought… I thought you would love to see the baby, but I didn’t think…” He shakes his helmet in a jolting manner as you viciously rub at your eyes and cheeks, “What happened? What did I do wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” You ignore his frantic questions as you try desperately to stop the tears escaping your eyes, along with the horrific memories from flooding your mind, “I didn’t mean to be so rude! I thought I was over it and I could forget, but seeing her...”

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” He hushes you in a kind manner, shielding you from any wandering eyes that might see your tears, “Why don’t… why don’t we go back to our room and you can tell me what’s going on? That’s what you said the other day, right? That we should talk about the things we feel?”

You nod your answer, not trusting your voice in that moment, and you try your hardest to force down the massive lump in your throat.

“Will you tell me why you are so broken up over seeing the baby?”

He’s quick to pull you in close, hunching over to hold you easier and you immediately stuff your face into the crook of his neck as you give him another jittery nod, “I fear you will hate me upon hearing what I’ve done in the past--how I have failed the ones I was supposed to take care of.”

“I… I could never feel such a thing towards you,” He promises with a deep exhale, sounding just as heartbroken as he reluctantly pulls away and leads you closer to his private quarters, keeping a firm hand on the small of your back, “Whatever it is, I could never hate you, I swear.”

Your chest aches more and more the closer you get to his private quarters and once you finally make it, he’s quick to sit you down on the foot of his bed, kneeling down as he collects your hands in his leather-clad ones.

“What is haunting you, ner cyare? What makes you cry so much when you sleep?”

You pray that once you tell him, the horrific memories won’t weigh heavy on your conscience any longer.

Translations:

Ner cyare=My beloved

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Ori Kebiin=Big blue

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum=I love you (lit. I know you forever)

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Verd’ika= Little soldier

Di’kut=Idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aerynwrites @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero @haloangel391 @awhiskeywithawinchester @aliciaxglasgow @bonesaldente @kawaiitimecharm @karaabove @clydesducktape @misssilvertongue @heartxheat @pazvizslasgirl4ever (Please let me know if I missed you or you’d like to be taken off!!)

Author’s note: As always, thank you all so much for being as patient and kind as ever <3 I don’t know why this chapter was such a struggle for me to finish, but I’m so glad eventually managed to get all the words I wanted down lol. I was worried it might seem like there’s a lot going on in this chapter, but I just wanted more interactions with our nurse getting more settled in with the tribe and meeting others, so hopefully this chapter doesn’t seem like it’s all over the place :( Anyways I love you all and thank you so much for all the support y’all continuously give me <33

#paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #Paz vizsla x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #my writing #IDK WHY I'M SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS CHAPTER OML #I hope you guys enjoy it tho <3 #also now y'all know why christina and I were fighting over wearing socks to bed lmfao

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viperbarnes · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, idk if your requests are open, but if they are, can I request one with Bucky Barnes? Something where the reader maybe had encountered the winter soldier in the past (but is now maybe working with Sam and has some unspoken feelings with Bucky) and in the scene in ep 3 where Zemo tells Bucky to fight at the bar it ends up bringing her some bad memories of the winter soldier? Later Bucky can tell she's not okay and is acting skittish around him, and when she finally tells him about it he feels extremely guilty but she comforts him? I just love angst with a happy ending :3

I don’t really take requests, but this little idea was kinda inspiring so here ya go boo!

Gif belongs to @unearthlydust

Warnings for violence, blood, and being sick

You know he’s changed.

You know that he’s no longer the man he was when you first encountered him, you know the man he is now, a strange mix of conflicting outspokenness and quiet guilt. You know how he takes his coffee, and that even though he doesn’t necessarily feel the cold, he doesn’t like it all the same.

You know that he sleeps on the floor in his living room despite having a perfectly good bed, that from the moment he’d stepped foot into his apartment he’d had the best mode of escape clocked. You know that he has a secret soft spot for terrible action films, and gets misty-eyed at adverts with dogs in them.

You know all of this, and maybe that’s why it’s so terrifying.

Baron Helmut Zemo rubbed you all kinds of wrong ways, and you hadn’t even been present when he’d shown his face last. There was just something about him that made your skin crawl, but it wasn’t as if you could pull either one of your new partners aside and tell them that.

They already knew, already felt it too.

The feeling gets worse when he voices his plan, giving you all your roles to play, but again, it wasn’t as if you could pipe up and tell him to screw off. You all wanted to, but for now, you needed him and his stupid plan.

It’s how you wind up in too high heels and a little black dress that splits unnecessarily far up your thigh, how Sam ends up in a delightfully adventurous suit, and how Bucky is landed with pretending to still be a brainwashed assassin.

You can’t stop the scowl from taking up residence on your features as you move through the streets of Madripoor, glad that nobody really seems to pay attention to you, not when the Winter Soldier was around.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long for everything to turn to shit, and you nearly hiss at the way Zemo commands Bucky to fight. For his part, Bucky seems completely unperturbed, but perhaps that was part of disturbed you so much.

He’s beautiful, it’s undeniable, even when he fights, it’s magnetic. There was nothing graceful about it by any means, he’s brutal and abrupt, near-mechanical in how he moves. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away, and suddenly, you’re no longer in Madripoor, no longer in your stupid little dress and heels.

You push the man you’re protecting into the back of the car with a mighty shove. The wheels might’ve blown, but it was still another obstacle between him and the attacker.

Smoke blows across the road ahead of you, the flipped car that had previously been part of your convoy crackling with flames from the IED. You’d half expected a group of insurgents, but you’re greeted with just one man, striding confidently through the smoke and right towards you.

He was tall, broad, and covered head to toe in black, only his eyes and hair visible. Sunlight glints off the metallic of his sleeve, but when you take a closer look, you realise it’s not a sleeve at all.

Mouth dry and heart racing, you palm your weapon and fire twice. The man lifts the metal limb and blocks like it’s nothing. He’s nearing now, and for the first time in your career, you feel anxiety overcome you.

He doesn’t even try to attack you until you throw the first punch. He ducks it easily, blocks the follow up blow by batting your wrist to the side. His eyes set on you then, blank and oddly calm, and blue as the sky above.

He pulls back his own fist, and somehow you manage to dodge, jumping back and raising your gun again. No way he’d fair this close. But you’re wrong. You get three shots off before he’s in your face again, hand grabbing the barrel of your gun and yanking it from your grasp. You hear the clatter of it when it hits the ground, but don’t have the chance to formulate your next move.

Your throat is grabbed hard, and you’re forcibly shoved back until you hit the wrecked car. You grasp in vein at the man’s hand as it tightens, and with your back now against something, manage to put all your years of training to use.

You get your foot up between you, planting it harshly in his center mass and kicking with all your might. It seems to take him off guard, because he stumbles back, releasing your throat. You take the moment to turn around, hands banging on the car window.

“Go! Run! I’ll distract him!” You scream at your ward, and watch as the man scrambles from the car, out the opposite door.

You’re about to turn around when the back of your neck is grabbed and thrust forward, connecting with the car window so hard it cracks. You gasp, calling out in pain as blood immediately begins dripping down your face. He pulls you back to do it again, but you drop, becoming dead weight and managing to slip under his legs and out of his hold.

Still, you’re dazed, and blood seeps into your vision making your disorientation even worse. You stumble, knees meeting the ground for a moment as you grab at your forehead and clench your eyes closed to try and clear your head.

The deafening sound of three quick gunshots opens a pit in your stomach, and you just know, without even seeing, that you’d failed.

You get your eyes open by the time the assassin is stalking back towards you, gun holstered now. He closes his fist around your throat again and lifts you clean off the ground, his other pulled back and raised to hit you. You fumble, finding your mark and pulling the gun from his hip, pressing it to his abdomen and firing. Again, he reels back, dropping you and keeling over.

You don’t even attempt to finish him off properly, your fight or flight activated. He was downed anyways, and there was no way he’d give chase with a wound to the center mass like that.

But you’re wrong. You make it barely to the end of the block before something embeds itself between your shoulder blades, the pain so sharp and sudden it makes you fall. Before you know it, a weight is pressing down hard against your shoulder, a boot, and the knife is ripped from your body mercilessly.

You cry out in pain, life flashing before your eyes when a fist harshly grips you by the hair and pulls back your head. You feel the blade, still slick with your own blood, press against your throat.

Sudden yelling makes the assassin freeze, and with your head still raised, you can see the approach of several heavily armoured men in black. The one who shouts is speaking Russian, but your brain was too frazzled to translate properly.

The knife is removed from your throat, and your head released. The weight on your body leaves and you’re left gasping on the asphalt. Spots dance in your vision, but before you pass out, you lift your head just enough to see the assassin join the other men, before they disappear into a dark vehicle.

The place between your shoulder blades aches with memory, and you can think of nothing else for the rest of the night.

Even when you’re taken to see Shelby, even when the fighting starts and you’re forced to run, even when Sharon saves your asses and lets you crash at her place.

You change into the first thing Sharon suggests for you, not even caring. You felt numb, and cold and sick. You position yourself on the couch with the view of all the room’s doors and windows and sit quietly as the others talk. It isn’t until Bucky comes out of nowhere and sits himself next to you that you finally make any noise.

Unfortunately, that noise is a frightened gasp.

Everyone stops to look at you, Sam’s features folded into concern, while Zemo just seemed mildly amused. Bucky looked nearly as surprised as you, his eyes turned up at you. That’s when you realise you’ve shot up, gun in your hands and aimed directly at him.

That same sickness becomes overwhelming then, and the weapon falls from your hands to the carpet with a thud.

“I-- I didn’t--” You swallow thickly, eyes never leaving the man in front of you.

“--I’m sorry…” You manage to blurt out but quickly fly from the room, desperately seeking a sink, or a bathroom of some sort.

You reach a toilet just in time, emptying the contents of your stomach inside. You wheeze and choke as the sick burns your throat and you struggle to breathe, your eyes stinging as you hack and heave.

Hands gently pull at your hair, gathering it out of your face and holding it back, a warmth dropping beside you in the tiny space. You half expect to find Sam or Sharon, but you’re not unsurprised to find Bucky crouched down, his features a mix of sympathy and concern.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs, free hand moving to rub over your back soothingly, unintentionally brushing over your long-healed stab wound.

“I’m sorry…” You rasp when it seems you’re finished.

“You alright?” Is all he asks, hand moving to steady your shoulder when you move back from the toilet. Your miserable nod allows him to stand, and he closes the lid and flushes, before staring down at you and offering you his hand.

You don’t hesitate before taking it. You know Bucky. You know he’s changed.

He hovers over you as you step into the bathroom, seeking mouthwash that you use three times before you feel actually refreshed, and splash some water on your hot and splotchy face.

“You alright?” He asks again, looking at you in the mirror.

“I…” You trail off, clearing your throat.

“I forgot how good you are with your fists.” You tell him, attempting a smile, but it just comes out pained.

Bucky frowns at first, blinking in confusion until his eyes flash with recognition and he sucks back a breath.

“I-- I can go. Or you can. You don’t have to--”

“-- No, Bucky, I’m not quitting this.” You say firmly, turning to face him properly. He seems to be pressing himself against the wall, attempting to make himself look small and unthreatening, which was hard to do when he was a six foot four super soldier built like a tank.

“It wasn’t real.” He says quietly, avoiding your eyes, and you smile tightly.

“I know. But you’re a good actor.”

His eyes flicker up to yours, pained, and you cough.

“Buck, it’s… it’s not your fault.” You tell him, but his chin only drops further.

“I nearly killed you.” He hisses, more anger in his voice than you’re expecting.

“But you didn’t. And my freak out was just--” You cut yourself off, humming.

“My freak out was because I haven’t seen you fight since then, but I’m not scared of you James.” You step forward then, close enough to draw his eye.

“You pulled a gun on me.” He says, the hints of a joke playing in his words.

“I’ve pulled guns on lots of people, doesn’t make me scared of them.” he lets you move closer still, and hesitantly you reach out, laying a hand on his arm.

“I don’t like to see you like that, Buck… it’s awful.” You admit, glad when his posture seems to relax some.

“It’s not you.” You go on, trying not to give too much away, but you’re sure you’re already seen through.

“If I can help it, it won’t happen again.” He tells you, and you finally lift your gaze to make eye contact.

Something sparks between you, something that had been subtle and unspoken up until now. Something that had been there, lurking under the surface ever since he’d shown up on your doorstep several months back, just to let you know he was in the city and going to therapy. It was there when you’d tentatively begun hanging out, neither of you really having anybody else, but not being too bothered by that either.

It’s something big and intimidating that draws you closer together, hearts beating quick and shallow under your skin. Bucky’s eyes flicker to your lips, and suddenly everything seems real.

“Hey, everything alright?” Sam appears in the open doorway, and you jump away from each other. The other man’s eyes travel between the two of you suspiciously, and you scramble to get a handle on the situation.

“Just had a bad shot at the bar.” You tell him, glancing sideways at Bucky who avoids all eye contact.

“... Right…” Sam draws out the word.

“Well, Sharon’s party is getting started, so…”

“Right! Yeah! I’ll… I’ll go… to that… the party. Now.” You stutter and stumble over words, quickly pushing past him and leaving the room.

Sam stays in the doorway, watching you leave, before his gaze swivels back to Bucky.

“Called it.” He says smugly, and Bucky’s eyes snap to him.

“What?”

“I called that you two had a thing.” He teases. Bucky glares and crosses his arms.

“We don’t have a thing. There is no thing.” He insists, but Sam only hums, shrugging.

“That’s why I walked in on the two of you about to eat each other’s faces off.”

Bucky scrunches up his nose.

“That’s… gross.” He tells the other man, who ignores him.

“You got time for that later. I’m sure Zemo’s plane has a stall big enough for two. For now, we gotta go.”

Bucky can only grumble in annoyance as he follows Sam from the bathroom, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of commentary he was set to receive from now on.

Still, as he watches you slip on those sleek black heels, he thinks there’s probably worse things to put up with.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #tfatws spoilers #Anonymous

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detectivesebcas · 4 years ago

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Promptober 2021 Day 16- Secretary (AU)

Requested by: anon

Warnings: none

----

“Do you have any special skills?” Sebastian asks, looking up from the resume to the man sitting across the desk from him. He seems more like a kid, actually, but maybe Sebastian’s just getting old.

The kid nods eagerly. “Taekwondo, jiu jitsu, fencing…”

Sebastian can only stare as the kid continues to list several more martial arts or obscure fighting styles. Finally he gets his wits about him enough to interrupt.

“You know,” he begins, casting a furtive glance down at the resume, “Justin. This interview is for a secretarial position. I was thinking more of what software or filing systems you’re familiar with, how many words per minute you can type, research skills, that sort of thing.”

Justin’s smile fades a little, but he nods. “I know,” he says, “but you’re a private investigator, right? So I figured you probably get into all kinds of dangerous situations. I could be more like a bodyguard!”

Sebastian does his best to keep a straight face. He tries not to judge a book by its cover, but Justin is all of five-foot-six and maybe one hundred thirty pounds. Even if he knows every martial art there is, it’s hard to imagine him being anyone’s bodyguard, and that’s not what Sebastian is looking for anyway.

“The work’s not as exciting as you might think,” he says, trying to let Justin down easy. “And I don’t think this position is right for you, but I’ll let you know if I hear of a job for someone with your skill set.”

He’s a nice kid, Sebastian thinks as he watches the office door close behind him, but he’s definitely got the wrong idea about the job. The worst part is that Justin might actually be the best candidate Sebastian’s seen today.

His first interview was with a sharp, no-nonsense woman of about his own age who would have been a great fit had she not been fired from her last job for embezzlement. Her version of the story was somewhat different but still not reassuring enough for Sebastian to consider hiring her. After that was a young woman who was so absorbed in her phone that Sebastian kept having to repeat his questions and an older man who found at least twelve excuses to touch Sebastian during the course of a twenty-minute interview.

Sebastian sighs and rests his head in his hands. He’s about to pull the plug on this whole thing and cancel his last interview of the day when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he calls, figuring if this person’s already here in his office, the least he can do is give them an interview.

The door opens, and the man who walks in gets Sebastian’s attention immediately. For one thing, he actually looks like he’s dressed for an interview, which is refreshing after Justin’s T-shirt and jeans. This man is wearing a neatly pressed blue suit, open at the collar, gloves, and well-polished loafers. He might actually be a little overdressed for a job interview at a one-man PI business, but at least he’s putting in some effort.

“Hi,” Sebastian says, “I’m Sebastian Castellanos.”

“Stefano Valentini,” the man says, extending his hand. Sebastian shakes it. Stefano’s handshake is firm, and he maintains eye contact, or at least, he maintains as much eye contact as he can with his ridiculous haircut. His hair covers half of his face, and Sebastian wonders how he can see like that, but that’s not the question he wants to use to start off the interview.

“Have a seat,” Sebastian says, waving at the chair recently vacated by Justin.

Stefano sits, crossing one leg over the other. He seems at ease, confident in a way that is either very promising or highly suspicious. Sebastian can’t decide which.

“I have your resume,” Sebastian says, gesturing to the paper on his desk, “but why don’t you start out by telling me why you’re interested in this job.”

“Of course,” Stefano replies. “I am sure it may seem a bit strange with my background, but I am interested in getting into the field of investigation myself, and I thought this would be a good way to test the waters, so to speak.”

Sebastian nods. Stefano does indeed have an unusual history. He looks like his educational background is in the arts, but he’s also been in the military, which tells Sebastian he probably knows something about discipline and can take direction reasonably well.

“It says here you’ve done some secretarial work before,” Sebastian says.

“Yes, for a law firm and the Krimson City Police Department,” Stefano says.

Sebastian nods again. Those are definitely skills that will translate, since a lot of the programs and tools he uses are similar to the ones utilized by the police department, which brings him to another question.

“Did we ever work together?” he asks, casting about in his mind to see if he has any memory of Stefano. “I used to be at KCPD myself.”

“No,” Stefano replies. “We were there at the same time, but I worked in economic crimes and you were in homicide.” He pauses for a moment, then adds. “I admit I did...notice you.”

The look he gives Sebastian at that moment makes Sebastian’s heart beat just a little bit faster, which is crazy, because he’s supposed to be interviewing Stefano for a job, not wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, but that’s exactly what he catches himself doing in the next moment.

He clears his throat. He can feel the heat rushing to his face and hopes his blush isn’t too visible.

He doesn’t want to make a rash decision, but Stefano is undoubtedly the most qualified person he’s interviewed, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes. In fact, Stefano is the kind of person Sebastian can actually imagine becoming his partner in the business after some training.

He takes a deep breath and asks, “When can you start?”

#steseb promptober 2021 #steseb #the evil within 2 #fanfiction #Sebastian Castellanos #Stefano Valentini

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bangtanreadingcorner · 5 years ago

Text

the blind date • kim namjoon

PLOT ─ hoseok sets you up on a blind date with his best friend, namjoon, and it all goes up hill from there.

GENRE ─ college!au

WORDS ─ 6.3k

You attention is drawn to the entrance of the cafe as it opens yet again, your eyes searching for a man fitting the description your friend had given you. Although, right now, you weren’t exactly in the best mood. You didn't want to go on this blind date in the first place, but it was a lot better than trying your hand at it yourself on the internet and potentially getting yourself murdered.

You sighed when you looked the guy over, no way was it that scrawny kid with glasses - although Hoseok did say his friend wears glasses from time to time, according to him his best friend was rather large in form. It's ten minutes past when he should have been here, you see as you clicked the power button on your phone. You heard the bell of the cafe chime but you don't bother looking up, busy unlocking your phone and sending Hoseok a message to tell him that his best friend didn't show up.

Before you could press send, however, someone called your name softly, and it was a little contrasting with his deep voice. You lift your head, eyes scanning over the - admittedly very handsome - man and he ticked all of the mental boxes to the description Hoseok gave you on his friend. He was wearing a light blue polo neck and a pair of denim jeans. What was strange was that he had one arm tucked behind his back while his other was stuffed with books.

You raised an unimpressed brow, handsomeness did not excuse his tardiness. "Namjoon, I assume?"

He nodded, a sheepish grin slipped onto his face, revealing the most adorable pair of dimples. "Guilty as charged. Y/N, right?"

"Yeah, that's me." You nodded back to him, crossing your arms over your chest. "So, is there any particular reason you're late, or are you one of those who thinks it makes you more attractive?"

"What? No!" His eyes widened and you would have found it amusing or maybe even cute. If he wasn't almost twenty minutes late to your blind date. Speaking of, you are never letting Hoseok talk you into anything ever again.

"It's not like that. I just, I got you these." The hand behind his back came out and there was a small bouquet of lilies and lavenders. You felt something inside of you go very gooey like, because those are your favorite flowers. "And I know it might seem old fashioned but Hoseok mentioned that you like flowers and that these are your favorites, so I went by the flower shop three blocks from here but the queue was longer than I expected and then they had to make the bouquet because they didn't have any in this specific arrangement and I am really, really sorry that I'm late."

You stated at him, opened mouthed and a little in shock at the ramble of words that passed his lips so quickly and nervously.

"Well," You cleared your throat. "As far as excuses go, I have to say, that's the best one I've ever heard." When he still remained standing, looking at you unsurely, you gave a small smile. "This date isn't really going to go anywhere if you don't sit down."

"Yeah, okay, right." He mumbled to himself, holding the flowers out to you. You took it with a grin, and couldn't help but smell them. You don't think you've ever gotten flowers from one of your exes. Not even on Valentine's day. This was a nice, refresh change, especially given your love for flowers. He placed the mountain of five books on the table, hands fiddling with them to have an outlet for his nerves. You couldn't help the smile that spread on your lips.

"What can I get you today?" A waitress asked as she stepped up to you, handing menu's to the both of you.

"Chocolate milkshake for me, thanks." You told her, and you looked at Namjoon.

"I'll have a iced coffee, please." Namjoon smiled at her and you could see the girl swooning a bit. Not that you blamed her, those dimples are killer. Still, this is your date, so you cleared your throat lightly.

"Right," The girl snapped out of it, cheeks reddening a bit at being caught. "Anything to eat?"

"Uh, I'm not really hungry right now." You look at your date. "You want anything?"

"I, um, I'm," He stammered a bit. "Yeah. Actually. Would that be okay? Some people say it's awkward when you eat on a date but the other person isn't, but I've been studying all morning because I was really nervous and I forgot to eat, so it just sort of caught up to me now."

You smiled, not being able to help yourself, his rambles are cute. "Not awkward at all. Knock yourself out."

"Thanks." Namjoon smiled gratefully at you and your stomach flipped, cheeks heating up. He turned back to the waitress and placed his order. Then he turned back to you. "Sorry, I know this isn't exactly an ideal date. I was late and showed up with a bunch of my books."

"Yeah, but you're cute and you had a really good reason for being late, so I don't mind." You smile widened when you saw the tips of his ears turning red. "Plus, you didn't make a comment about my choice of drink, a definite plus for you."

Namjoon frowned, "What's wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing for me, but so many guys has said to me that it's not healthy and I need to be careful of to many sweet things because I can get fat." You rolled your eyes.

"That's . . . stupid."

"Yeah, tell me about it." You snorted. Not really wanting to delve any further into your other dates in front of this beautiful man, you changed the topic. "So, Hoseok tells me you want to be a Marine Biologist."

"Yeah," Namjoon nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "I mean, I like all kinds of creatures and animals, but I've always loved Marine life."

"That's so cool." You couldn't help but gush, excitement coming easy for you due to your love of the ocean or just anything to do with the outdoors, really. "Do you want to work out on the ocean or in aquarium?"

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Right now getting my degree is my number one priority." He gave a little chuckle as the waitress comes along with your drinks.

"I hear you, man, I mean, I know most people think that we dance students don't put a lot of work in, but they really don't know shit." You took a sip of your milkshake before you could say something really mean. Like what you think of those judging pricks.

"I get it, I really do. I've known Hoseok since high school, and I know how many hours he puts into getting choreography just right and perfect. You guys have your struggles just like we do."

"Exactly!" You couldn't help but exclaim, feeling like something was lifted from your chest because, finally, someone else gets it. "And you should hear my parents. They do not approve, like, at all. Always telling me how dancing isn't going to be enough for me to live on and I should have gone into law, so I could take over their business and ugh, it's just so frustrating."

"Sorry." He gave you an apologetic look.

"Why?" You gave smile a little smile. "It's not your fault. Anyways, what about your parents?"

"They approve of my choice, supporting me all the way and in anyway they can. But I can tell they sometimes worry that it's to much for me. Maintaining a scholarship is not easy." Namjoon told you, rubbing his neck as he spoke.

"Wow, they must be so proud of you." You stated at him in awe, respect towards him forming inside.

"I'd like to think they are." Namjoon smiled, eyes lighting up when the waitress arrived with his food. He looked at you, "You can have half, if you'd like?"

"No, thanks." You denied, looking at the large burger and fries. "I might steal some of your fries, though."

He pushed his plate closer with a smile. "Feel free."

The rest of the date went by a lot quicker than either of you would have liked. Before you knew it, you two were standing outside the cafe, bill split in two, and ready to go your separate ways.

"I really enjoyed this." You said, smiling up at him, because wow, he is tall. You also wanted to prolong this for a few more seconds.

"Yeah, me too." He was smiling, too, and you hoped it was because he liked this date as much as you did.

You two stood there for a while, just looking at each other, smiles slowly fading, nerves rising between you. Until you both spoke at once.

"Do you maybe want to go out again?"

"Would it be okay to ask for your number?"

You two burst out into laughter, and even when you calmed down, you smiled so hard, your cheeks hurt. "I'd love to go out with you again."

"You can have my number." Namjoon nodded with a happy smile, those dimples were really making you weak. "On one condition." He added.

You raised a brow, "And what's that?"

"You have to give me yours, too."

You laughed, head thrown back as a giddy feeing spread through you. You looked back at him, stomach fluttering. "Deal."

* * *

"So, how was it?"

"Did you get laid?"

You looked at your two friends, head moving from one to the other, who pounced on you the moment you set foot in the dancing studio. You gave them a look of disbelief.

"Okay, first of all, no, Jimin, I didn't get laid. Second of all, isn't Namjoon your roommate and best friend, Hoseok? And third of all, Jesus Christ, you two are nosey."

Hoseok pouted, "Yeah but he wouldn't say anything other than that it went well."

"It did go well." You confirmed, smiling as a warm feeling spread through your chest as you thought of Namjoon. You guys have been texting all weekend and this morning he sent you a heart eyes emoji at the end of his good morning text. That was good, right?

"Come on, I want details. I was the one who set you up, I deserve details." Hoseok whined.

"Nope." You sing-songed with a grin.

Jimin was pouting as he crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm not telling you about any of my dates ever again."

You smirk, "Does that mean you've finally done something about your gigantic crush on Jungkook?"

"No, and I'm not going to until he's eighteen." Jimin repeats for what seems like the hundredth time.

"And then you're going to jump his bones." Hoseok said with a wide smile.

"A whole two years more of celibacy. Well, technically a year and a few months. You know, I'm really starting to respect you for holding out that long." You noted matter of factly, then you smirked. "Poor Jungkook isn't going to know what hit him."

"Why would you even think that?" Jimin whined, cheek going a hilarious shade of red.

"Because one, we've seen him before. And two, we've seen how you look at him." You reminded Jimin. Jungkook has come to see a few times at the studio and you and Hoseok never let him forget it.

Jimin narrowed his eyes at you, "He's like, four years younger than you."

"Three years." You corrected with a concealed smirk, loving how you were getting underneath Jimin's skin. "And age is just a number." Hoseok sniggers next to you.

"Yeah," Jimin grumbled. "I'll remind you of that when they lock you up for going after someone who's still underage."

"Nah, I got someone else in mind." You told Jimin honestly, just now he stresses himself into a stroke because of your teasing.

Hoseok perked up at this, "Is this someone maybe named Namjoon?"

You rolled your eyes, but let out a resigned sigh. These two weren't gonna let up until you told them. "Yes, as matter of fact, the someone is named Namjoon. You happy?"

"Not yet." Hoseok shook his head, curious smile on his face. "What did you do?"

"We both went to the cafe you said, although he was twenty minutes late at first because he brought me flowers and the queue at the flower shop was long, and I ordered a chocolate milkshake and he ordered an iced coffee with a large burger and fries. We talked and figured that if we can have this much fun in a cafe, we might as well do it again. The end." You walked past Jimin and Hoseok, who were both gaping at you. The followed after you, both with excited looks on their faces.

Hoseok was practically jumping with excitement, "Does this mean you're going out again?"

"Yeah, this Saturday." You nodded, heading towards the equipment room, where everything from students' bags to mats and old mirrors were stored.

"Where are you going?" Jimin asked, evidently just as excited as Hoseok about this.

"Dinner and a movie." You said, feeling a lot more excited by something so simple than you normally did.

"That's so cliché. And cute." Jimin grinned.

"Thanks." You grinned, knowing that he didn't mean anything by it.

"You know, I have this big urge to rub both your noses in the fact that this is actually working." Hoseok commented.

"How's that?" You asked, bending your upper body to the floor and stretching your hands to your feet.

"Because neither of you thought the blind date would go anywhere." His voice was a little smug.

"It hasn't gone anywhere yet. This is literally just our second date." You rolled your eyes. "But we have been texting all weekend and he sent me a good morning text."

Jimin gasped, "That's so cute, I want someone to do that for me."

"Don't worry, Jimin, we'll get Namjoon to house train Jungkook." Hoseok quipped just as you switched to the other leg.

Laughter burst out of you before you could stop it, and a glance at Jimin's once again bright red face only made you laugh harder.

* * *

It was deadly silent between you and Namjoon as you walked out of the cinema. Finally you couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry but," You started, laughing a little. "That was one of the worst romantic comedies I have ever seen."

"Oh thank God," He breathed in relief. "I thought it was just me."

"Nope, that was such bullshit. She chose her childhood bully? Okay, I can see the appeal of someone becoming a better person, but really? She'd have been better off with the post boy that gave her advice."

"I know right." Namjoon grinned, moving his hands a little as he spoke. "I'm surprised she didn't need years of therapy after everything he did to her."

You snort, humming in agreement. "Especially that humiliation by dumping ice cream on her head. You know what, I think he needs therapy too. That was such a waste of perfectly good ice cream. What on earth did his mother teach him?"

"I feel worse for the best friends though. You could see that they really liked each other, but never did anything because the two main characters had the whole rivalry thing going on. Which turned out to be some really backwards courting." He said with a light frown.

You nodded, "Yeah it was kind of shitty that they left that opened ended, but I get it. That might just be the most realistic part of the movie."

“A sequel about them might be nice.” Namjoon said and you nodded.

You looked down at his hand, wondering it was to soon to hold it. Then you decided to just go for it. No one ever got anywhere by being scared anyways. So, you took his hand, holding your breath until he moved his hand a little to lace your fingers together. You looked up at him, returning the shy smile he gave you.

Your stomach was feeling fluttery and your heart beat just a fit faster than normal.

"Hey, do you want ice cream? All that ice cream in the movie has given me a craving."

Namjoon nodded, "Sure. I think there's an ice cream shop in the food court."

You two walked to the food court, chattering about this and that, entwined hands swinging lightly between you.

* * *

"So, how do you feel about the aquarium?" Namjoon asked when you two were eating lunch that next Tuesday. It is the first time you two has seen each other since your movie date the previous Saturday.

"Uh..."

His smile dimmed a little, "It's okay if you don't like it, I was just asking."

"No, no, it's not that." You were quick to assure him.

"Y/N, it's really okay. I was just asking." Namjoon placed a hand on yours, squeezing to assure you.

"It's not that. Seriously. I just - and you're not allowed to laugh at me, okay? - but I haven't been to an aquarium since I was like a really tiny kid. And I don't really know much except the obvious." You were the one to ramble for once.

"Okay, that's not a problem. I know enough for both of us." Namjoon smiled brightly at you. "So, do you want to go on Saturday? With me?"

"Can we do it on Friday, instead? Jimin has been on my ass because I haven't been out with him and Taehyung in weeks."

"Yeah, sure." Namjoon nodded, still smiling, but looking a little unsure. "So, how did you and Jimin become friends? I think Hobi's mention him before, he dances with you guys, right?"

“Yup.” You nodded, smiling at the memory of meeting Jimin. “We met at the beginning of the year. See, I was put in school by my over enthusiastic parents a year early, so I graduated a year early. Most people in my classes are a year older than me, and when Jimin came in this year, it turned out that we were the same age and we kind of bonded over that. And with Jimin comes Taehyung, they're like a package deal. Just don't ever ask them if they're a thing because I made that mistake once and never again."

"So, are they?" Namjoon frowned. "A thing, I mean."

"Nope, but they are platonic soulmates and there is a whole discussion about it that you are welcome to enter with them as long as I'm not anywhere near." You told him. "And Jimin is in love with this high school junior who is really shy but really cute, and Taehyung has a lot of girlfriends. Not in the more than one at a time kind, more like a new one each time you see him. Anytime someone asks him about it, all he says is that he’s a very passionate person, but he never hurts them, so I mind my own business."

"Sounds nice." He commented.

"It is and they are." You grinned as an idea suddenly hit you. "Do you want to meet them?"

"What?"

"Yeah, like meet my friends. You can bring Hoseok and your other friends too."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. It'll be fun." You clapped your hands in excitement.

"Okay."

* * *

"I can not, for the life of me, understand why either of you are so interested in my love life." You deadpanned, shaking your head at Hoseok and Jimin - the three of you laying down on the dance floor, sweaty and breathless.

"Because Namjoon won't tell me anything." Hoseok whined, passing the water bottle to Jimin.

"And I'm tragically single, so I have to live through you." Jimin added before gulping down water.

You sighed, "What do you want to know?"

"I heard that you two ate lunch together yesterday, is it true?" Hoseok asked, wide smile on his face.

You frowned at him, "How do you- you know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. Yes, it's true. And he asked me out again." By the time you were finished talking, your smile matched Hoseok's.

"Nice," Jimin handed the bottle to Hoseok, who handed it to you. "Where's he taking you?"

"The aquarium." You answered dutifully, gulping down some of the water.

Hoseok tensed next to you, sitting up right, you and Jimin following suit. "Uh, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, don't get me wrong, or anything but Namjoon can get a little overexcited when near anything with marine life."

"I don't understand what you mean." You frowned, a little confused.

"Well, he's a genius. Like, literally. He remembers nearly anything he reads and he reads a lot about marine biology. And he will most likely talk your ears off about anything he sees." Hoseok said, biting his lip. "Most people don't like it, or they find it rude because he talks to much. It's why his last girlfriend broke up with him, she said he talks more about it than her."

"Isn't that's kind of the point of going on dates? To get to know someone and decide from there if you like them and want to know more." You asked, shrugging a little.

"Yeah," Hoseok smiled widely, clearly relieved. "Yeah, it is."

Jimin looked at you with a smirk, "Does this mean you like him already?"

"Oh, piss off." You groaned as Jimin and Hoseok burst out laughing.

* * *

"Are you sure this is okay?" Namjoon asked as the two of you stood in line to buy your tickets to enter the aquarium the next Saturday. He was wearing a loose grey v-neck with a pair of black skinny jeans and more than once had your attention been drawn down to his long legs ever since he showed up in front of your dorm room. He had enveloped you in a tight hug, the moment you opened the door and didn't let go until your phone dinged, signaling your Uber arrived. You liked it very much.

The question made you look at him with a light frown, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Most people wouldn't really think of an aquarium as a date location." Namjoon said, looking a little put off by that fact.

"You bring all the girl's here then?" You teased, wanting him to relax a little, but all it did was make him tense up even more.

"No. Well, I guess, but not in the way you think. I mean, I did take my last girlfriend out to one but that was just to show her what I'm passionate about. I just," He stumbled over his words, not sure how to phrase it. "It's not something I use to get girls. It usually scares them off, as a matter of fact."

"So, you're trying to scare me off, huh?" You couldn't help your dry tone, mostly teasing but a smidgen of worry climbed into your heart.

His eyes widened, panicking a little. "No, no, that's not what I'm trying to do."

"Really?" You asked, an unexpected surge of hope going through you.

"Yeah, really. Look, I like you. And I just thought that I need you to know this side of me before I can like you even more and you end up getting scared off by it." Namjoon told you and to stared at him, stunned.

Then you smiled and blurted, "I like you too."

"Good, that's really good." He sighed in relief.

"Also, if I didn't want to come, I wouldn't have. Nobody can make me do anything I don't want to." You tell him, smiling when his shoulders finally relaxed.

You two buy your entrance tickets and go inside and just like Hoseok said, Namjoon starts talking your ear off about most of the marine animals you come across, but instead of feeling annoyed or irritated, you just feel an enormous amount of fondness. Which was a little surprising. And every time he turns to look at you, that sparkle in his eyes, your hearts speeds up a little and your stomach flip-flops pleasantly.

"So, why dancing?" Namjoon asked out of the blue, when you guys made your way to the outdoors food court at lunch time.

You looked at him in surprise, this was the first time that he's said something that wasn't marine related. Not that you minded. He has a really soothing voice, very nice to listen too. You took a deep breath, "Ever since I was little, I've loved to dance. I just, I would hear a beat and my body would move with it. I decided pretty young on that I want to spend my whole life doing this. My parents always hoped that I would grow out of it, they never approved because it's not a proper career. We had a big fight when I left last year and I haven't spoken to them ever since. But it's my passion, it's what I love. I have hope though, that one day they'll accept it. They haven't cut me off yet and they are still paying my tuition, so I guess they don't completely hate me."

"That's rough." He said sympathetically as you two walked to a food truck. The conversation between you comes to a halt while you order and wait for your food. When you're seated at a picnic table, across from each other, Namjoon says, "You know, they're your parents, they could never hate you."

"Okay, yeah, maybe not hate." You agreed with a nod. "But they’re definitely disappointed."

"I don't know why though. I can't talk about your dancing, because I've never seen you dance, although Hoseok is always full of praises and awe, but you as a person, I do know. Kind of. And you are one of the best people I've ever met and they should be proud of who they raised."

"Thanks, Namjoon, that's really sweet and I wish it was that simple, but unfortunately it's not." You smile at him, a little sad.

"Why can't it be?" He asked, and you can tell he's a little confused.

"My family, uh, how to phrase this without sounding arrogant?" You give a humorless chuckle, deciding to just say it. "They're rich. Really rich. My parents owns one of the biggest law firms in the country and I am an only child. I was supposed to take the reins over from them, but I've never wanted to do that and if they haven't forgiven me by now, I don't think they're gonna do it anytime soon."

Namjoon's expression falls a little during your explanation, but you don't notice, keeping our eyes down cast on your meal.

"I don't know what to say." He admitted, voice soft and gentle. "I do hope it gets better though."

"Thanks." You look up from your food to smile at him. "Sorry, this isn't exactly second date conversation material."

He raises a brow, "Oh yeah, and what exactly does the dating manual say when is the right time to talk about what?"

You can tell by his tone that he's teasing and it works because a smile breaks through on the corners of your lips. "Fair enough."

After that, you notice that Namjoon has become more subdued. It gets a little better once you're back inside the aquarium and he's telling you all sorts of facts about sharks and stingrays, but some of the shine of the sparkle in his eyes has definitely dimmed. It isn't until he has walked you all the way up to your dorm that you ask him about it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Namjoon gives you a smile and you see right through. It terrifies you a little, how much you know of him after just two dates. "I just don't think we should see each other again."

Your stomach drops, so does your entire face. It feels like someone knocked the wind from you.

"Why?" Your voice is surprisingly steady, not showing any of what you are feeling.

"Hoseok must have not told you, but I'm not like you. I don't come from money. My parents works hard to make ends meet and to take care of my siblings. I am here on a scholarship and I have a shitty job at an ice cream parlor. We don't fit, Y/N."

You look at him like he's grown a second head, "Who the fuck even cares about that stuff?"

"Your parents do, remember." He says, giving you a pointed look and reminding you of your conversation earlier that day.

"I don't care!" You voice raises a little and you take a breath to calm down. "It's my life and I get to choose and I choose you."

Before he can go on any further, you stand on your tiptoes and pull him down by the neck to kiss him. He doesn't hesitate to kiss back and you melt against him when he wraps his arms around you. He pulls away first, both of you are breathless and you feel like you might float away if it wasn't for his hold on you.

He whispers your name and you just know that you're going to fall in love with him. If you haven't started too already.

* * *

The next day it was the big day. Okay, maybe it's not that big of a deal, but it's been a while since you've introduced someone to your friends and strangely you don't remember ever being this nervous about it.

"It's going to be fine." You mutter to yourself, looking in the mirror one last time before grabbing your jacket and leaving your dorm. You all but skip down the stairs and then quickly make your way to the nearest bar where you, Jimin and Taehyung usually hung out. It wasn't to far the dorms and it wasn't expensive either - the perfect place for broke students to hang out. You smile widely when you see Namjoon waiting for you outside, like the gentleman that he is. He hasn't noticed you yet and you decide to look him over. Maroon button up, tucked into a pair of dark grey form fitting jeans with a pair of sneakers. As you neared him, you let out a wolf whistle.

His head, along with a few others who were loitering outside the bar, turned to you and you watched as a smile lit up his face. You stopped in front of him, grinning, "You look hot."

"Thank you." He ducked his head, smile turning sheepish as his ears burned. You barely resisted the urge to coo at him. "You look very pretty. I mean, beautiful."

"Thank you." You returned the sentiment with a light chuckle. "Come on, let's go inside before Taehyung comes out here." You smiled at him, taking his hand, warmth making your heart beat spread up a bit when he laced your fingers and squeezed your hand.

Inside, you were tackled into a hug. You let go of Namjoon's hand to hug back, laughing at your hyper friend. "Nice to see you, too, Tae."

"I missed you, it's been a while." He said, pulling away from you and stepping right in front of Namjoon. You resisted the urge to facepalm because while they are almost the same height, Namjoon is like twice Taehyung's size. "You hurt her, I hurt you."

"I'll let you." Namjoon said, expression unwavering as he didn't brake Taehyung's stare.

Finally, Taehyung grinned. "In that case, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Taehyung."

Namjoon cracked a smile and relaxed, "I'm Namjoon."

"Oh, I know." Taehyung quipped with a smirk. "I heard all about you from Jimin, who heard all about you from our dearest Y/N here."

"Shut up, Tae." You groaned, cheeks burning, grabbing Namjoon's hand and looking around the bar, sighing in relief as you spotted Jimin and Hoseok, pulling Namjoon along with you.

"So, you talk about me?" Namjoon asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

Ignoring your burning cheeks, you gave him a deadpan look. "I like you. Is it really that much of a surprise to you that I talk to my friends about you?"

"No," He shook his head. "I do it too."

"Then why is Hoseok always complaining that you never tell him anything?" You retorted with a raised eyebrow.

He snorted, "Because I don't tell him. I love him, don't get me wrong, but he knows you and he is terrible at keeping things to himself."

"Y/N! Namjoon!" A familiar voice exclaimed.

"Speak of the angel..." You sing-songed. "Hey Hoseok."

"Hey." He was grinning, like always, and fixed his gaze on Namjoon. "The guys are already here. I mean, my friends is your friends, so I just joined everyone together."

Next to you, Namjoon looked highly amused. "How many drinks have you had already?"

"Not much." He said and that's when you saw it. The flushed cheeks plus the drink in his hands. "I just got a few shots from some of my other friends from other facilities."

"Uh-huh." Namjoon nodded disbelievingly.

You arrive at the table, Jimin standing to give you a hug as Taehyung sat down next to a girl. You smiled at her, "You must be Hye-ji."

She frowned at you, "No, I'm Yeona."

“Oh, I'm sorry.” You grinned apologetically, elbowing Jimin, who was snickering next to you. You lowered your voice to a whisper as you glared at him, "I thought the latest one was Hye-ji."

"It was, they split two days ago because she hates cats." Jimin was still snickering, so you elbowed him again.

"Jesus Christ." You muttered and glared at a smirking Taehyung.

Shaking it off, you looked at the four new faces at the table, who must have been Namjoon's friends. You smiled at them, waving. "Hi, I'm Y/N."

Namjoon took a step forward. "Well, these are my friends, Jin, Yoongi, Jackson, Mark and you already know Hoseok."

"Nice to meet all of you." You said, hoping that they'd like you.

Two hours later, it certainly seemed like your friends getting along perfectly – the alcohol was definitely helping. You and Namjoon were sitting next to each other, holding hands. You were giggling, well on your way to tipsy, as Jimin, who sat on your other side, told the story of how you and Taehyung got stuck in an elevator together a few weeks ago. It was just before you met Namjoon.

"It's wasn't my fault." Taehyung pouted.

"Rightttt." You drawled. "Because it was me who wanted to see what happened when you press every single button at once, even the emergency one."

"What can I say, I'm curious by nature." He smiled and you scoffed.

"I should have taken the stairs with Jimin." You said, leaning against Namjoon as the rest of them laughed.

"Why didn't Jimin take the elevator?" Namjoon asked, his hot breath hitting your ear and neck. A shiver climbed up your spine and you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling hot all over.

"He's afraid of elevators." You answered, turning to Namjoon and noticed how the space between you wasn't much.

"Why?" He asked, wetting his lips with his tongue. You're eyes followed the motion.

"I don't know," You answered distractedly, leaning closer and closer. "He didn't want to talk about it when I asked."

Namjoon's lips were just in your reach, when suddenly icy cold went down your back.

You reared back from Namjoon with a loud yelped, "Jesus, fuck. Park Jimin, I'm going to kill you."

You pulled your shirt away from your back, shaking out the ice cubes he poured down your back. You could hear the laughed from the rest of the table and if it happened to someone else, you might have found it funny too.

Jimin, the idiot, was smirking at you. "I thought you might want to cool off a bit."

"Oh, fuck off." You scowled, grabbing one of the stray ice cubes and launching it at his forehead.

Later that night, Namjoon was walking you back to your dorm, both of you a little tipsy, but not drunk. Your hands were joint and swinging between you as you walked, the cool night air heaven against your warm skin.

"So, that went well, don't you think?" You grinned at him, completely giddy.

"Yeah, very well." He agreed, smile matching yours.

You hummed happily, mind bringing up something you’ve been thinking about earlier that day while you worked on some projects while doing laundry in-between. "Have you ever been ice-skating? I was thinking that we could go for our next date."

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He blurted suddenly and you stopped in your tracks, turning to him with wide eyes. It took you a second to decide.

"Yes." You nodded, no hesitation in your tone as you leaned forward to do what you've been wanting to do all evening. You kissed him, and he kissed back, long and deep.

"I could get used to that." You murmured when you pulled apart, out of breath, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

"Me too." He said, both of you smiling widely.

You realized that for the first time in a long while, you weren't just happy or content with life, you were euphoric. And it was all thanks to this man in front of you.

“So, ice-skating?” You asked, still holding hands with your new boyfriend. Boyfriend. It made you want to squeal out loud.

“We could try.” Namjoon nodded, grin matching yours.

You two start walking again, sometimes chattering, sometimes silent, but always happy to be around each other. You look up at the night sky.

The stars was gleaming above, you knew, even though you couldn’t see them because of the city lights. Just like you knew your and Namjoon’s relationship could only get better from here.

the end.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #namjoon x y/n #namjoon #kim namjoon x you #kim namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon x reader #blind date #strangers to lovers #bts fic #bts namjoon #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #kim namjoon

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crimsonwolfie · 5 years ago

Text

Fortuitous Love — Theo Raeken x Werewolf!Reader

Prompt: You (the reader) are a werewolf in London who live with Jackson and Ethan. You all travel to Beacon Hills to help Scott’s pack fight against the hunters, only things happen unexpectedly...

Warnings: occasionally swearing, trigger of dying/pain, fluff and general happy ending

Word count: 4,799

Masterlist

“You know, you’re asking for your death certificate by doing this.”

“I’m part werewolf, part kanima, darling. They’ve got nothing on me.”

“What about us, my love? We’re only werewolves. Sorry for not having the intolerance to wolfsbane unlike you!”

Carrying your head in your hands, you sigh dramatically at the two loverbirds in the front seats. Jackson and Ethan have been your friends (more like parents) for the past 2 years, after they found you alone and scared on the night you turned. Ever since then, they’ve taken you under their wing like their own and helped you control yourself - they were there for you when no one else was. During those 2 years, they’ve confided in you completely, telling you about Beacon Hills and their friends back there like Lydia, Stiles, Scott and Derek Hale. Being in London, you don’t really make any run in appearances with other supernaturals so your knowledge of them is remotely vague...but ever since your date took you out on a walk through the woods and bit you, you’ve wanted to know everything you can about all of it. If it wasn’t for Jackson and Ethan walking home from a dinner date and heard you scream, then you wouldn’t even be here to tell your story.

A cold, refreshing breeze hits your heated pink cheeks as your hair is swept back from the car window being down. Peering up through the sunroof, you see the moon full and as bright as the heavens above, bringing a small smile to your lips. As the reflection of the moonlight appears upon your glossy eyes, your mind wanders into reminiscing what your life was like before you changed...how you couldn’t hear everything in a 3 mile radius, how you had to ask how people were feeling instead of smelling their emotions...how you didn’t have to be weary of people hunting you down just to kill you for personal gain...

“How’re you feeling, Y/N?” you’re snapped back to reality by Jackson turning around in his seat, his eyes soft and his dimples merry.

“I’m okay, a little nervous i guess” you reply, shifting in your seat slightly whilst tugging the sleeves of your hoodie onto your hands “but hey, what about you? I mean...you haven’t seen these people for 3 years”

“It’s okay, not like they’re strangers. It’s just a shame it’s not under better circumstances” Jackson drops his head slightly in guilt. You know he thinks he should have visited them at least once a year, but with so many supernatural occurrences that have happened in Beacon Hills over the years, he knew it wasn’t the right time. And you knew that too.

“Look, you couldn’t see them before this. It was too dangerous, okay? You’re not in the wrong.” You place your dainty hand over his large one, gripping it tightly in a way to say “it’s going to be okay.” He returns this with a gentle squeeze of your hand and a small smile, before letting go and turning back to the front.

You, Jackson and Ethan were on your way to Beacon Hills to help the pack fight against pretty much the whole town, who have been turned by their own fear to fighting and killing all supernatural creatures. Hunters had been sent to London to hunt down you three, obviously they didn’t succeed but you guys were absolutely pissed. In a way, this is all a blessing in disguise to you, as you’re now on your way to meet people who are meant to be like a second family to you. You’ve heard so much about them all, that you feel like you have already met them...it’s...weird.

“Don’t be scared, darlings” Ethan disturbs the comforting silence with a soft tone “i can sense the fear from both of you, it’s thicker than a bowl of oatme-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” you lean forward poking your head between the two seats in front, glaring at Ethan with beady eyes. Both men wheeze as you breathe out a slight laugh.

“-and anyway...i’m not scared.” You retort, placing your hands on your hips and tilting your head slightly whilst staring into Ethan’s eyes in the mirror. He stares back at you, crinkles on his eyelines and cheek bones high as he cackles softly at your words

“Yeah right princess”

“It’s true! I’m not!”

“It’s okay if you are, sweetie” Jackson pouts sarcastically, earning a middle finger from you. “Hey, don’t be mean little lady!” Jackson wiggles his finger at you whilst tutting your choice of actions.

“Love i will not hesitate to bite your finger off and throw it out this window” you hiss as your eyes glow a bright golden colour. Since you’re London born and raised, you have a british accent coating your words, making it all that more humorous for the two americans in front of you. Your accent has always been something they find both fascinating about you, but also a way to tease you about how you say certain words. You look up to the window reflection to see your eyes are glowing and quickly look down and shake it off.

“You know, i think you’ll get on very well with Theo Raeken” Jackson pipes up, you look up to see him smirking, knowing it’ll wind you up even more.

“Who is this Theo Raeken guy, anyway. I thought you said you both left town before he appeared?”

“Oh we did, only it’s a pretty small world and that guy gets around..” Ethan side eyes Jackson, wearing a confused “just tell her” expression

“...okay maybe because Lydia calls me every week to tell me what i’ve missed.” He sighs as he rolls his eyes. You smirk sweetly, quite enjoying the view in front of you.

“So what’s he like?” You ask, intrigued to know more about this ‘Theo’ guy

“He’s a dick”

“And a liar”

“And a snake”

“Wait how’s that even possible?! I didn’t even think you could have a snake hybr-“

“-no not literally silly, you can’t trust him. He’s a snake that way”

“-oh.”

...

“Is he fit though?”

“Y/N STOP”

—

The car comes to a sudden halt outside an old, abandoned building. The night sky darkens your surroundings, taking away any sort of comfort you had before. Had you reached your destination? Or was something stopping you from reaching it? Remote darkness surrounds you all with not a glimpse of light in sight - no street lamps lit, no lights in the buildings and no cat eyes in the road. It’s almost as if you’re standing in the middle of a ghost town, or even a graveyard.

“This...this can’t be right?” Ethan begins to fiddle with the satnav displayed in front of him “it’s saying ‘route malfunction. No route calculated?”

“It was fine when we got here?” Jackson retorts whilst rubbing his eyes of tiredness. You can feel it too...the fatigue. After an 11 hour plane ride, you’re surprised you’d lasted this long without any sleep. But there’s something else your senses are picking up on...fear? Or even anger?

“Let me try my phone” you hesitate as you open the car door, stepping one foot out ever so cautiously. Picking up your phone from the seat, you hold it up in the air in hopes of getting a signal - nothing. No bars at all...weird.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, causing your entire body to cover in goosebumps. Pulling your hoodie over your body more and bringing your arms up to hug yourself, you get back in the car, rolling the window back up. As if by magic, the air turned from a cool summer breeze to a winter snowstorm with an unsettling feeling running around in the air, and you nor your wolf side liked it.

“Do...do you feel that?” You ask

“I don’t know what it is but...yeah i feel something”

“It’s called love dumbass”

“Jackson this is not a time for your sarc...” Ethan trails off suddenly, sticking his nose up in the air and sniffing. “It’s blood...i smell blood”

“What are you...wait, yeah i smell it too” you retort, opening your car door up once again and stepping out “i’m gonna go and follow it, stay here” you say

“Y/N you’re basically our child, it’s YOU who should be staying put, safe” Ethan replies, his hand on your shoulder

“Eth, it’s okay...i can handle myself” you flash your eyes “if i’m not back in 10 then get the hell out of here. Don’t look back.” and with that, you stalk off, following the scent of fresh blood. Using your wolf vision allows you to see more in your path than you would normally, and with your senses heightened due to a completely unfamiliar setting, you know you’ll be okay.

There’s tall brooding trees everywhere around you, but no sight of life of any kind. Running faster and faster you start to gain a stronger track of the scent, seeing a type of clearing ahead of you. Just as you’re about to leap forward, you hear something flying through the air, only you have no idea where it’s coming from. As you stop and stand behind the tree bark, your vision starts to blur and your muscles begin to weaken. You feel this sharp sting in your side, looking down to reveal an arrow sticking out of it. Panic overwhelms you as the thought of dying here in the darkness, in the cold all alone, scares the hell out of you. A hot, single tear drops on your rosy cheek and into the corner of your mouth. You want to scream, to rip someone’s throat out, to run and hide, but you can’t move. The sound of more arrows flying through the darkness surround you, until all you can hear is the same swooshing sound of this death trap.

“Hunters” you moan under your breath, squinting your face in both pain and anger. The blood is oozing out fast, and you’re not healing. You lift your hoodie up to see the damage whilst wincing...and it’s bad. I mean...really bad. If you’re not healing, then it can only mean one thing...

“Oh for fuck sake, wolfsbane?” You growl as blood seeps into your leggings, painting your once grey hoodie now a tie dye of a piercing crimson shade. The pain begins getting worse as beads of sweat drip from your forehead, mixing with your salty tears. Red laser beams strike through the darkness ahead of you, searching for your body. Scrunching up into a ball on the floor, you try to rock yourself to ease the pain, but it’s useless. You’re looking around for any sort of plan, and start to think of Jackson and Ethan, hoping they’ve gone and are out of harms way. ‘If anything ever happens to them i swear to god i will kill anyone and everyone who inflicted harm their way’ you think to yourself, as you tug the arrow out of your body with a heartbreaking cry. So many emotions are crossing your mind right now to the point you don’t know what is right to feel and what is wrong. Killing someone? It feels fucking right at the moment. Especially the son of a bitch who hunted you.

You know you couldn’t howl to alert the others as they would just race towards you, not away. You have no choice but to face the hunters to get to the clearing, to find someone to help, and with that...you get up. It takes all your strength, but you do it, determined to escape alive.

“Cmon Y/N, you got this” you whisper to yourself in a brittle voice, chin trembling from the pain you’re enduring. Your golden circles glow brightly with determination, as you step forward...but as soon as you do, you look down to see a red laser beam pointed directly at your stomach. Luckily your adrenaline instincts kick in as you grab the flying arrow mid-flight before it hits your body. Breaking it into two pieces, you look up, anger and rage boiling inside you. Your fangs rip through your gums as a ground-rumbling growl leaves your throat, cutting through the space around you like a thousand knives. Running towards the clearing, a dozen more arrows fly around your body...some missing...but also some hitting. Taking a few arrows to your chest, back, legs... your vision gets blurrier, fading by the second until you can’t take it anymore, the wolfsbane kicking in a lot quicker than before. Collapsing on the ground of dried leaves and fertile soil, you reach your hand out to the clearing, trying to grasp at it one final time. Gripping a handful of soil in your blood soaked palms, your eyes brim with tears. ‘This is it’ you think, your fear of a painful, cold and lonely death becomes too realistic. The sound of arrows flying from all directions starts fading away as your body slowly starts giving up on you. As you’re about to give up completely, you see a small blurry blob in the distance getting bigger and bigger the closer it comes. The last thing you see is a hand reach towards your body, then pitch black.

You awake with a gasping breath, back shot up straight and eyes wide. The last thing you remembered was being on the brink of death in the woods, yet now you’re in somewhere that looks like a clinic...an animal clinic maybe?

Looking down at your hands, you see dirt and blood still dug in-between your nails...but there’s white bandages wrapped around your arms. Your bare back shrieks in pain as your skin burns underneath, screaming to be ripped apart. The steel table is cold to your touch as you sweep your legs off onto the side, examining your body for injuries - you’re patched up with bandages everywhere instead. As you’re about to get off the table completely, you hear footsteps approaching the room. Quickly, you decide to grab the needle to your right side for defence, only freezing once seeing the figure walk into the room.

It’s a boy, roughly the same age as you, only he seems a lot more muscular, taller and maturer than you. His hair is a dirty blonde, with longer bits at the front that fall in front of his face Leonardo Dicaprio style. His complexion is dashing, with eyes as blue as the sea and chiseled jawline, his nose pretty much perfect and his lips...oh they look succulent. Upon seeing you, he smirks with perfect lips, as his brows raise.

“And what do you think you’re going to do with that?” He asks, his voice deep but attractive. He places the clipboard in his arms down on the counter next to him, bringing a hand to his hip.

“I...you could have been the hunter” you reply, captivated by his features still

“So i try to kill you, patch you up here and then try to kill you again?” His lips part as a chuckle leaves his throat

“You never know.” You snap, pouting your lips as your brows furrow in defeat.

“So...you must be Y/N?’” The boy asks, tilting his head slightly whilst scanning you up and down. You step back suddenly, surprised he knows who you are, as if he’s been expecting you.

“Wait how’d you know that?” You ask, slowly placing the needle in your hand on the table. He steps forward, closing the space between you two slightly

“Well for one, the accent” he points towards your mouth with a single finger, “and second, Lydia never stops talking about the ‘girl who Jackson saved’. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Well you’re acting like i’m not what you expected..”

“Because you’re not.” He smirks whilst getting closer, closing the gap between you two more. You can’t help but stare into his eyes, then look down at his luscious lips and think of what they’d feel like pushing against yours, moving in synchronisation-

“Hey, stop thinking about me” you snap out of your trance, looking up to see him winking at you with that famous grin of his that everyone talks about, granted he is who you’re thinking he is...

“I-i’m not thinking about you” you push him away

“I can smell the attraction on you” he scoffs.

“I take it you’re Theo Raeken, then.” Sighing, you look up at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“The one and only” he says as he comes closer to you, bringing his face inches away from your own.

You understand what everyone means when they say Theo Raeken is no good - The guy reeks of selfishness and cockiness. He went against Scott and his pack, even killed him at one point and spent a year in hell...if you could see red flags then he’d be drowning in them. But that’s your problem - you go for the bad guys...you always have. Jackson and Ethan knew this already, which is why they knew you’d get along with him when no one else does.

“So what brings you to Beacon Hills, gorgeous?” Theo takes a few small steps forward, which is making you take small steps back until your back hits the wall of the clinic, your frame pressed against the hard surface. Theo raises his hand and presses his palm against the wall, leaving you nowhere to escape...that is...if you wanted to (but hey, being sandwiched between a wall and a really hot - actually insanely hot guy, was not that bad).

“It’s the hunters, we came back to help.” Your eyes glimpse across his face once again, as you bite your bottom lip. You lean on the wall with your feet planted into the floor, keeping you completely still.

“You’re willing to risk your life for complete strangers?” Theo’s face falls in concern, his deep blue eyes squinting slightly in disbelief. ‘What kind of girl would do that?’ He questioned himself, starting to get more intrigued by you each second.

“They’re not strangers, kinda?” You reply, looking away as you try to explain “they’re Jackson and Ethan’s friends, so i trust them.” Scratching your neck, you look back to him. Theo stares at you as if he doesn’t believe what you’re saying. “You don’t need to stare at me like that”

“Like what?” Theo questions

“Like you can’t trust me. Because you can...and anyway who’s to say you’re the one to be trusted? You don’t exactly have the best representation” you retort, earning a scoff from the boy in front of you

“I saved your life; you should be grateful?” He hissed

“Gee, thanks for not killing me like you did with Scott Mccall, you’re my hero.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

“I do not like your attitude, pretty” theo scoulds, his eyes glowing.

You flash your eyes back at him, growling “i don’t like your loyalties.”

“Yeah well maybe if you went through what i’ve gone through you’d understand”

“You don’t need to pity yourself, Raeken. Some people are just born monsters. Accept it.”

“You don’t even know me!” He’s practically screaming now, with his teeth gritted and fangs shining in the moonlight from the windows above

“I know enough to know you’re a no good, rotten waste of space!” You hiss back, as you go to swipe at him...but he blocks you, gripping your wrist in his hand.

You both stand there facing each other with your fangs dripping and eyes golden, faces inches apart and heavily breathing. You can practically feel his chest on yours, his breath tingling on your cheeks. Staring into each other’s eyes, neither of you move. His hand is still wrapped tightly around your wrist...only after around 10 seconds of staring into each other’s golden orbs, he loosens his grip. He doesn’t let go, just hovers his hand gently over yours. You yank your wrist from his touch and bend under his other arm, which is still palmed to the wall. Walking around the the other side of the table, you focus on controlling yourself...which Theo notices from the corner of his eye.

“You still have trouble controlling yourself, don’t you?..” he begins, only you shut him up by running towards him, shoving your hand over his mouth. Theo’s eyes widen, fearful for your state...but there’s something else in his eyes - sympathy? Suddenly a heart-wrenching pain tears through your side, causing you to kneel over screaming with pain. Still with your hand over Theo’s mouth, he gently places his own over yours as long, black lines start trailing through his skin.

“Wha-what are you-“ you yelp loudly “-you doing?” gritting your teeth and clawing your claws into your palms, he places his other hand over the small of your back. Theo gently moves your hand with his, off of his mouth, so he can talk.

“I’m taking your pain away” he softly speaks, his eyes soft and his touch delicate over your fragile skin. You look up to him with a layer of tears glazed in your eyes, fear hidden deep within your orbs. Theo never looks away when taking your pain. As you start to feel it going away, your eyes soften slightly, guilt clouding your conscience after remembering what you said to Theo. ‘Clearly he’s not what they paint him to be’ you think to yourself.

“You have to care, to take pain away...” your voice is shaky, wobbly. As you bring your legs together, Theo gives you a small smile, as he still holds your hands after taking your pain.

“Of course i care...i can tell you do to” he simply replies, looking down at the ground. His soft, silky hair flops with his gaze, covering part of his forehead. All you want to do is run your fingers through his perfect head of hair, feel it through your fingertips and put your hands on his cheeks...

“But you don’t know me?” You whisper, as you reach forward and place your fingers on the side of his head. He leans into your touch, replying “i just feel like i know you, already”

He brings his hand to yours on his cheek, lacing your fingers in his

“I’m really sorry for...for everything i said earlier” you hiccup quietly “it’s just i thought you were this big bad guy that everyone says you are...” your words trail off as you glance away to the side, thinking of why Theo was being so nice to you “...Hell changed you...didn’t it?” You mention, your voice barely above a whisper. Theo grunts at your words, flinching at the thought of what he went through down there.

“It would change anyone” his eyes welled with tears as he chewed on his lower lip. A sob leaves your lips as you realise what torture he must have gone through, seeing the genuine look of hurt and pain in his expressions. It makes you want to just hug him and never let go...

“...no one’s seen this side to you, have they?” you lift his head up by placing your fingers on his chin. His head is heavy, tears now streaming down his face as memories are recapped in his wracked brain. You bring both hands to wipe away his tears, sobs quietly leaving his mouth.

“No...” he begins, choking up. You pull him into your body, hugging him tightly, rocking sideways in a way of comforting him. He returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you tighter and burying his head in the crook of your neck. You both stay like this for a while, as your hand rubs his back softly and the other hand runs through his hair.

Everyone had no problem telling the bad side of Theo Raeken’s story, but they seemed to have missed out the path of redemption. The path Theo wanted to take, and with your help, he would stick to. For this, you felt anger unlike anything before, for he was a boy who made mistakes. Hell, you’ve made mistakes before...but everyone deserves the right to prove their redemption - to make things right...and Theo Raeken...was never given that opportunity.

Slowly sitting up, he wipes the rest of his face of tears, resting his back against the wall of the clinic. He never expected to meet you, and like you. He’d heard things about you, much like how you heard things about him, but he never saw sympathy as one of your qualities...especially sympathy towards him. You release him from your touch, about to get up, until he grabs your hand back in his.

“Please, don’t leave me Y/N” he begs, his state so fragile and broken. As his soft fingers lace around your own, you obey his wishes and sit back next to him, intertwining your fingers together. He turns towards you, a sweet smile on his face, his red bloodshot eyes tired. You lean your head on his broad shoulder, and just sit with him. He leans his head on your head, his breathing calming. It’s almost like you two are each other’s anchors...but it’s impossible - you don’t know each other...not really?

“Do you believe in people being anchors?” You whisper. Theo adjusts himself closer to your body, instantly creating more heat between you two

“I guess...Liam’s is Hayden. When she left, he really struggled. He still does” he hums. It gets you thinking...you never really had an anchor. You only had Jackson and Ethan telling you this motto “the sun, the moon, the truth” to help control yourself, but most of the time it never worked...

“Wait” you gasp, starting to get fidgety and panic setting in your heart “where are Jackson and Ethan? They were in the car and i left them. I left them, Theo” you turn to him with tears settling in your eyes, your face growing paler through panic. Theo quickly grabs your shoulders to steady yourself, pushing your hair behind your ears, out of your face

“Hey, hey Y/N it’s okay - they’re safe. I got to them, too. They’re with Scott and the others.” He reassures you, rubbing your arms. “It’s okay, breathe. Just breathe, you’re okay”.

“I can’t lose them, they’re all i have” you whimper, Theo strokes your cheek with thumb, pulling you into his chest.

“You have me” he whispers, making you look up at him in adoration. You two had met a couple of hours ago and it already feels like you’ve fallen for him...only he felt the same way. It’s like you two were each other’s soulmate, and that everything feels safe and okay when you’re with each other.

“I feel like...and please don’t think i’m crazy-“ you blurt out, hand on Theo’s chest “-but i feel like you’re my anchor...”

Theo smiles at your words and leans forward, crashing his lips into yours with pure desire and passion. You return the kiss by moving your lips sweetly along with his, hands roaming everywhere on each other’s bodies. Sparks run through your body and burst into fireworks as the kiss deepens. Theo places his hand on the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his lips. Your fingers trace through his hair, tugging at times. Your urge to rip each other’s clothes off increases, as Theo gets slightly aggressive in the kiss, his hands leaving imprints in your skin and biting your lip. Your breath is rigid, wanting more and more. Suddenly, the lights flicker and the sound of a door creaking open breaks the connection between you and Theo, as Jackson and Ethan walk through the door. You and Theo freeze in your position of tops half off, Theo on top of you, his hair an absolute mess and your hair tangled around your neck in sweat

“I knew it!” Jackson cackles, clapping his hands together as Ethan stares at him in annoyance. He reaches into his pocket and places a 10 dollar bill in Jackson’s hand, who smirks and kisses his teeth

“-woah woah you guys BET on this happening?” You gasp, pushing Theo off you enough so you could sit up

“No, we bet that you’d like him...we didn’t bet that you guys would actually click like that” Ethan replies, shrugging.

“Okay i love you guys but...get out.” You scowl, staring at the two men in front of the door

“Y/N we didn’t me-“ Jackson starts

“GET OUT” you flash your eyes, causing the two men to dash out of the room sniggering like two school girls. You flop back on the floor, smirking towards Theo, who climbs back on top of you, about to press his lips to yours once again

“What actually happened he-“ Ethan’s head pops behind the door frame

“GET OUT”

Hope you guys like this! Let me know if you want a part 2 or any other Teen Wolf requests! Xo

#theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #teen wolf #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #cody christian #cody christian imagine

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shinjaeha · 5 years ago

Text

itsay ep 5 (thoughts + spoilers)

i feel like i’m on a high that i’ll never come down from :))) the itsay effect. this show is truly a cultural reset.

first up, i just want to say that i have never been more worried about a final ep before IN MY LIFE. for the past couple eps, i’ve tried to watch them live raw, but for this one, i was afraid of spoilers (and wanted to understand everything from the first watch), so i waited for the vimeo ep to drop and let me tell you...that was both the longest and shortest wait ever...the excitement and the dread i’ve been feeling this whole week has been unreal.

as usual, this is not an analysis. tbh there’s prob going to be even less analysing in this one bc most of the time i was either crying or yelling at my screen (and i feel like this ep in general didn’t have as many scenes to analyse?). but god, i’m SO GLAD that they gave us a happy ending bc it would have broken me into pieces if i had to rewatch and recap this knowing everything had fallen apart for them (ecstatic that wasn’t the case, and my feelings from last ep on how things might go in this one actually panned out!!). after what went down in ep 4, i always thought that that was going to be the peak of the climax/conflict, and that this one was going to be much more of a healing ep...the ep that would bring more closure to each of the characters and their relationships, as well as wrap things up as a final ep should.

so the way this ep starts is actually kind of anti-climactic. esp after the intense emotions of what happened at the end of ep 4. which is understandable? like they were being petty teenagers angry at one another, but now it’s a few days later, and all those heated emotions have tempered down. they’re in that awkward stage where neither of them even know how to start approaching one another after the loaded feelings of the last ep (basically this is what happened to them when they were children. no one reached out, and they both drifted apart...only now they’re aware of what might happen if no one reaches out and it’s a question of whether they let history repeat itself).

oh-aew using the cue cards that teh gave him and being worried ;;; doing that thing that teh told him about writing something over and over again when he can’t say it out loud...teh deleting his line chat history ;;; i was torn with this one bc on one hand noooooo, but on the other, it could be representing them starting anew again?? ALSO, they always know how to make the most of the ost in this show (i think it’s the can’t translate/lost in translation instrumental?). i was literally shaking the first time i watched this.

i was actually very worried about how his mum was going to treat him after last ep...i thought she would be angry/ignore him, and i was feeling so anxious about it...maybe bc i personally know what that’s like. that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re scared of how they’ll react to you after a fight. teh wanting to make his mum proud is hugely important to him, so when she handed him the plate, i actually let out a sigh of relief. i’m glad that his mum understood and backed him when he needed it most (she may not be fully all the way there yet, but feelings are raw and it takes time). and i already knew hoon would, so i wasn’t too worried on that front.

tarn is so good for teh, and i really see why they were drawn to each other. but i like how she’s prioritising what’s right for her, and also telling him like it is. they need to focus on their studies now and figure out the other stuff later.

teh loitering outside the tutoring classroom before entering sort of reminds me of ep 1 when teh and oh-aew met up for the first time after their first fight...just this time it’s less straight up antagonism between the two of them and more hurt feelings as they avoid each other instead. i also appreciate the gang during this. they’re so normal and encouraging about the whole situation. they know something went down between teh and oh-aew, but they don’t really press too much about it. just let teh know that they’re here if he needs someone to talk to.

the ep 5 trailer played us!!!!!!! i was WONDERING why oh-aew would suddenly say all that nice stuff about bas (not that bas doesn’t deserve the nice stuff, he’s an ANGEL) in front of class, but their teacher was the one that put them up to it. the horror i felt as i watched teh look straight at oh-aew but turn to bless phillip instead and then start on that whole spiel about how phillip “never sees the good intentions of friends as worthless. never says ‘no’ to what friends give you” and how he’ll never leave him because of that. ALL RIGHT IN FRONT OF OH-AEW’S SALAD...STOP TEH. PLEASE. he’s digging himself into this hole himself with the passive aggressiveness again. THEN BAS COMING IN TO STEAL THIS WHOLE SCENE. i don’t think any of us were expecting him to be as forward as he was but omg. he laid it all out on the line in the way that teh couldn’t (at this point in time). i’m really, really glad that oh-aew got to hear what bas thought of him though, and that bas got to tell oh-aew all his feelings. nothing is misconstrued. he’s so brave and the utter respect i have for him increased by tenfold...what a fantastic character. just so sure and convinced in how he feels, and so uncaring of what anyone else thinks. it’s so damn refreshing. and for oh-aew to know that there’s nothing wrong with him at all. that he’s desirable and wanted and loved (it calls back to ep 4 when oh-aew’s sobbing and desperately asking teh “what did i do wrong??” again and again). it must have meant so much to him. the conflict i felt in my heart watching that and knowing that bas would be SUCH a good guy for oh-aew, but also knowing that sometimes that’s just not enough.

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TEH’S REACTION TO ALL THIS. he’s truly facing the consequences of his actions in this one. but just imagine being in this position, being too scared to own up to your own heart, and then watching this other boy do it like it’s the easiest thing in the world?? like it’s just another regular day?? like it’s nothing?? all to the boy that you’re in love with. to the boy that wanted this exact thing from you, but you couldn’t give. it’s like teh’s watching oh-aew slip through his very fingers, but knowing that it’s bc he never had oh-aew in the first place (and the reason for that is himself). i also really love how no one in class (including their teacher) makes a big deal out of this? they’re all just applauding bc it’s a sweet confession. it would be so jarring for teh to see this acceptance when the fear of society not accepting his feelings for oh-aew is one of the reasons he can’t accept them himself.

anyway, i had like one thought in this next scene and it was just DRINK THE COCONUT TEH. DRINK IT!!!!!!! so nice to see how his fam loves and believes in him.

teh watching on as bas and oh-aew take the first step with their left foot :(((

LOVE how they use the firecrackers going off to represent anytime there’s some sort of shift in teh and oh-aew’s relationship (when they first met, when they had their first fight, and now again when they talk for the first time after the fight and oh-aew tells him teh that he and bas are dating now). it’s such a great way to symbolise the spark and passion of their relationship. anyway, this meeting mostly consists of the both of them trying not to cry as they act civil with one another and skirt around what happened. teh asking about what the deal is with oh-aew and bas is like a parallel with what happened last ep when oh-aew asked about teh and tarn...only this time oh-aew and bas are actually dating...man, this is really not the kind of news you want to hear right when you’re about to sit one of your most important exams ever :/// teh holding himself together until the moment oh-aew leaves and then just having a fucking meltdown over the news :((( as always, it just hurts to see teh torture himself in this way. but esp when he’s supposed to be sitting his exam and he just can’t stop crying in the exam room (been in that position and have almost done the same thing before). when he hadn’t finished his exam and they were like “time’s up, pencils down” the sheer panic i felt at this...ugh. i hate it.

the elation on bas’ face when oh-aew asks him out for chinese new year. he’s the cutest. THE ABSOLUTE CUTEST. and then when he holds oh-aew’s hand????? the boldness of it. he. just. does. not. care. i wish i had that sort of confidence!! oh-aew’s shock at this too. his realisation that it’s okay. that this is okay. and then bas being all “why would i be?” after oh-aew asks if he’s embarrassed. bas is literally giving oh-aew everything that he wanted from teh and more (compare this to that scene in ep 3 where teh and oh-aew grazes hands but don’t hold each other’s hands). he’s proud to be with him and to show the world. and, you know what?? i would do anything in the world for bas to be happy.

AND HERE WE HAVE IT. MY LONG AWAITED HOON/TEH HEART TO HEART. i wanted teh to tell hoon soooooooo badly, so to hear the words come out of his mouth...that his brother was the first person he told. i felt so relieved bc i knew that hoon would support him no matter what. the struggle in teh’s face and words...he fought so long and hard against ever admitting these feelings to someone else out loud that it would have felt so incredibly terrifying, yet also like a weight being lifted off his chest, to finally get them out there. to have someone else know his secret. and to know that his brother loves him unconditionally regardless. “if you like him, you go after him” THE WAY I SOBBED DURING THIS. i really loved what hoon said to teh. he didn’t sugarcoat things and say that everything was going to be fine if teh liked boys too. not every single person you meet is going to be okay with who you are, that’s just a fact, but i loved that he emphasised to teh that HE was okay with it. it’s just what teh needed to hear. and that it might take their mum some time to accept it too, but all she truly wants is for teh to be happy. just the feeling of hearing his brother, someone that he very clearly looks up to and respects, tell him that he can like whoever he wants to like?? that it’s all up to him and he’ll still be there for him whoever he wants to be with?? teh sorely needed that and i’m glad he got it. hoon encouraging him to go fight for his love!!!!!!! i was cry laughing at how teh just starts bawling his eyes out at hoon telling him to go after oh-aew, but then teh telling him that it’s too late for him bc he likes someone else. like from hoon’s perspective, he’s prob just like ‘this is so needlessly dramatic’ and the sibling energy during that whole part is too real. i love them.

watching bas/oh-aew with the rest of the gang and their respective girlfriends really makes you realise how open and accepting they all are. like teh was terrified in the scene just before about how his friends might not accept him and oh-aew, but then you see them here with bas/oh-aew and no one even cares (which i expected bc they’ve been supportive since day one, but it’s just nice to see in practice too). oh-aew teasing them all ahhh. cute. phillip being the relatable only single guy there (me at every gathering i go to with my relatives omg).

THE PIANIST PLAYING SKYLINE. they really wanted us all to be SAD sad huh, and they succeeded. how it pans to oh-aew and this song is yet ANOTHER reminder of teh...you know he’s thinking about cape scene where they were singing and translating to one another. on the day they made their promise to each other :( and teh being there too??????? all alone with his bowl of oh-aew on the table. feeling the exact same heartbreak that oh-aew’s feeling too :( it’s the way that so much of their relationship is beyond words for me. but they’re also both hurting so much that i just want to push them together and make them talk so they can clear everything up.

hoon talking in cute japanese to nozomi on the phone while teh goes through oh-aew’s old worksheets and cries I HATE IT HERE. i love the different ways in which teh has smelt oh-aew’s coconut scent since ep 2. how it evolves from curiosity to desire to him heartbrokenly reminiscing, every feeling changing with the shifts in their relationship.

can i just say that oh-aew’s parents are ADORABLE. but also, finding out exam results is the worst kind of anxiety. was so happy that oh-aew got in!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he worked his ass off for this :’))) teh not getting his first pick wasn’t altogether surprising bc it did feel like they were leading up to this. but when he apologised to his mum about it ;;; noooo, she’s so proud of you. as someone who’s been through this process before (and didn’t get my first pick either), it always feels like it’s end of the world when you don’t get the uni pick that you want, but it really isn’t. still, it sucks when you’re in the moment there’s no denying that. but i get that it’s also particularly sad for teh since he’d already basically gotten his first pick before he gave it up for oh-aew. but again, it’s all part of the learning process, and the consequences for his actions.

BAS BEING BEST BOY EVER YET AGAIN. how he knows exactly how oh-aew feels bc he feels it too, but he never imposes those feelings on oh-aew. he knows that oh-aew’s heart isn’t with him, can’t be when it’s with someone else, and bc he cares that much about oh-aew, he guides him in teh’s direction. it’s never a good idea to date someone who’s hung up on someone else, but i’m glad that they tried at the very least. the both of them did what they could, and oh-aew needed to experience it to know. i’m really glad that bas was there to make oh-aew realise how worth it he is too...and bas deserves someone that loves him back just as much as he loves them. seeing bas cry is the worst experience ever. 0/5. never want this ever again thank u. their hug scene was just devastating, and worse still bc it’s not anyone’s fault...you just can’t help how you feel, and that’s just the way it is sometimes.

idk why but for me, the scene with tarn was possibly the hardest scene for me to watch in this ep. it’s interesting how he’s wearing the shirt that oh-aew was wearing in ep 3 in this scene (with the bold ‘sunset’ lettering). i guess it symbolises him being ready to open up about his feelings on where their relationship is heading? either way, she’s a great friend. she’s so encouraging, and understands him and his ambitions to a tee. the both of them are always filled with such fierce determination. they just know what they want and go for it. but that’s also why these past couple eps have been all the more confusing for teh since he’s always been so sure of himself before. how she tells him that no one can take away his identity and that no one can take his dream away from him?? all these characters just knowing exactly what teh needs at the right time. she’s so incredible. no wonder teh is so scared of losing her as a friend. it’s great that he apologised for how he treated her last ep bc it’s def the least that she deserves. that being said, watching her heart get broken as teh tells her that his feelings for her have changed and asking if they can still be friends...like damn, that fucking hurts. there’s something in tarn’s face in this scene that stays with me every time i watch it, and it’s that heavy feeling of knowing that the opportunity is missed. they had the potential to have been something, but it’s slipped by now, and now they can’t go back to those initial feelings anymore. too much has changed. but it’s also that she, like bas, values teh’s happiness too much. values their friendship so much that even if she’s heartbroken, she can still overcome those feelings of heartbreak bc she cares for teh so deeply and wants to see him happy. despite the pain she’s feeling, she still encourages him to make the first move and talk with oh-aew bc she knows that oh-aew is who makes him happy. anyway, we already established this in my last rant text post for ep 4, but i love tarn with my whole heart and only ever want her happiness too. the purple hibiscus in her drawing for teh was like a final stab to the heart :(((

what i love about bas and tarn is that neither of them are the bad guys in this situation. this drama has no outright antagonist, and a lot of the time in BLs (even in standard dramas in general) that’s what the secondary love interests are used as...a hindrance for the main couple to get over. but the both of them are written (and acted) with such respect and care. it’s really hard not to fall in love with them too. the real conflict and antagonism mostly comes from within teh himself, so this series is his own journey to overcome that. a true coming of age story.

oh-aew in his uni uniform!!!!!!!!!!! cue me constantly chanting “come through, teh” over and over as oh-aew passed the restaurant hoping to see him. and I KNEW HE WOULD. not me bursting into tears as soon as they show him following oh-aew on the motorbike ;;;;;;; he loves oh-aew too much, and this was too important, he was never going to back out on this promise. i mean, he gave up his uni spot for oh-aew so he could keep this promise. technically, if you think about it, it worked in a roundabout way bc teh giving up his place was what made oh-aew decide to do the admission exam again...and better still bc he got into his first place uni all on his own accord. he proved to teh that he could do it like he always wanted to.

love that teh pushes the good luck coconuts onto oh-aew too, like his mum and brother always do for him. it’s cute. when they go to the temple again, and the significance of it being open this time so they don’t have to sneak in anymore????? my heart is FULL. another thing i love is how teh’s kind of behaving like how oh-aew did in ep 3?? being flirty?? almost toying with him?? like that part when they’re drinking the coconuts together, and he sort of slides backwards drinking the coconut, eyes not leaving oh-aew before bouncing away. that’s an oh-aew move okay. and, as always, teh encouraging oh-aew when he’s down bc the sun isn’t out. rival and inspiration. i love them more than words could ever describe.

skyline instrumental is legit the perfect song bc sometimes when you listen to it, it can make you feel like you’ll never be happy again, but then other times (like when they’re walking to the tip of the cape), it’s like a shot of pure hope to your chest. that shot of them going through the trees and right into the open space of the tip of the cape with the sun shining all around them was BEAUTIFUL. the freedom of it all, of no longer being constrained. seriously, these shots of the two of them standing in front of the golden glow of the sun are just *chef’s kiss* so stunning. cinematography on point (but when did this show ever fail me on that front).

“when i gave it, i really gave it to you” I’M NEVER GONNA STOP CRYING. i literally cannot watch this part without getting choked up and/or screaming. they’ve missed each other so much, and it’s piecing the broken bits of my heart after the last 4 eps back together again. THEY’RE FINALLY TALKING.

okay i really have to talk about this scene when oh-aew asks teh “how about you and i?” bc of the war flashbacks i’m having back to the last time this question was asked and how disastrous that turned out. it’s in how oh-aew asks it and reads teh’s hesitancy as teh thinking the same as he did last time...oh-aew’s fake smile (the same smile he put on when he asked teh how things were between him and tarn and teh told him they were pretty much the same) when he thinks that teh still isn’t willing to acknowledge he likes him back. it’s how oh-aew is willing to accept ANYTHING from teh...whether he wants to be friend or a rival...whether teh likes or hates him...as long as teh stays in his life. he’s willing to accept whatever teh wants to define them as bc he’s just missed teh so much and can’t stand to be away from him. and it’s like this is what finally clicks in for teh. that restricting himself this way is only ever going to constantly hurt the both of them. teh finally saw past himself, and realised what this meant to oh-aew. it’s like he’s finally looking at oh-aew and seeing what oh-aew needs most (has always needed most), and that in turn helps him gain the courage to say it out loud bc the love he feels for oh-aew (and for himself) is ultimately stronger than any fear he has about society not accepting them. it’s such a beautiful scene. after pushing back at himself and his feelings time and time again, he can’t deny himself anymore. his character arc has come full circle ;;; everything teh’s done in previous eps for oh-aew has shown how much he really loves and cares for him, so it just makes me happy that he released his breath and let himself be happy. it’s all i ever wanted for him.

the amount of tears i shed at teh asking oh-aew to be his boyfriend...i knew teh was very likely going to give in to his feelings for oh-aew at this point, but this was even more than i expected. that was so SMOOTH. oh-aew bursting into tears after that...SAME. then the hug in the sunset WITH the new ost song. and that last shot of teh’s handwritten full pages of ‘love’...they did the MOST with this and i’ll never ever ever be over it.

then the part 2 announcement!!!!!!!!!!!!! after so much angst, i can barely believe we’ve been given so much in such a short space of time omg. i love how teh’s tie is red and oh-aew’s tie is blue for their respective uni uniforms. ADORABLE

i know everyone was afraid (myself included) that this was going to end sad from the get go. from the trailer to the ost, we were all TERRIFIED bc realistic shows like this often end in heartbreak. we’re so used to it. but i saw someone describe itsay as a love letter to the lgbtq+ community, and i totally agree. it could very well have ended tragic/sad, but instead they subverted our expectations of the traditional ‘bury your gays’/sad gay ending we’re so used to and gave us a story that showed us that there’s realism in happiness too. there are so many struggles and hardships that lgbtq+ people have to go through bc of the world that we live in, but they CAN be happy too. this post that nadao tweeted of teh crossing out the lyrics of skyline and writing “let me set my own destiny“ instead is SO powerful, and shows the immense character growth he’s gone through over the course of the series. it made every single tear that i have shed for this show completely and utterly worth it.

i’ve mentioned this multiple times before, but i’m so grateful to nadao for giving us this drama. literally one of the best dramas that i have ever watched in my entire life. i’ve never felt so passionately about a show before, or been so attached to the characters and their relationships. everything about it...the directing, the writing, the cinematography, the acting, the soundtrack, EVERYTHING has been set to such an impeccable standard i really don’t know how, or if, i’ll ever get over it (prob not). i know i’m not the only one that thinks so, but it’s truly a masterpiece. i hope it sweeps all the awards bc it’s the least that it deserves. moreover, i’m so happy that their story isn’t over bc this cast of characters are some of my fave characters ever and i genuinely cannot wait to see more of them in march next year :’)

#i told sunset about you #itsay #so thankful we still have the documentary for the timebeing!!!!!!!!!!#i need more fill of this show before i have to await the drought #anyway this took longer than expected and i know it's a mess but it was harder to contain my feelings into words with this ep #mostly bc i felt TOO much #so sorry if it's just more run on sentences than usual #rewatching this was me pausing to cry ever five mins love that for me #text #i'm super excited for part 2 but i'm also worried a little bc if they're in uni now it would most likely be set in bangkok #and i'm gonna miss the phuket setting so much #i have faith in the cast and crew to create something different for us though so it'll be interesting to see how they do things #with a very similar setting to most other BLs...like how they change things up #and i know they can bc the writing and directing in this were in another league so i'm feeling hopeful

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fictionadventurer · 5 years ago

Text

Christmastime Again: A Hallmark Sci Fi Presentation

When the room stopped spinning, Lacey found herself on Christmas morning again. The guests had all arrived, the tree was standing and a light snow was just starting to fall out the window. The start of a picture-perfect Christmas.

As long as she kept it that way.

Alright, from the top.

By now, she could navigate the first part of the day by muscle memory. Scoop up the cat and lock her in the carrier in the laundry room. Straighten the rug and move Uncle Wendell’s beer stein away from the edge of the counter. Turn down the Christmas music just in time to hear the timer buzz and bring the turkey out of the oven at the peak of golden-brown perfection. Stash the cookies out of toddler-reach and get every child at the craft table a red crayon before the hair-pulling started.

Since she could navigate these hours without thinking, her brain was alert to the rest of her surroundings, watching for any unexpected ripples that could upset this version of the Christmas timeline. She noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except for the stares of the guy in the sweater. She’d heard his name--Julian, some cousin of her sister-in-law who had nowhere else to go--but it was hard to remember it when her senses were distracted by the ugly sweater. It wasn’t cute ugly or ironically ugly; it was “I was raised by color-blind trolls” ugly. All beige and orange and yellow, displaying a big fuzzy reindeer with lopsided button eyes and trimmed with bits of bright green tinsel. If she could have made the loop go further back, Lacey might have tried to prevent him from wearing it. But she could only control the things that took place in this house today, so the sweater stayed, assaulting her eyeballs at every turn.

Not that the guy himself was hard on the eyes. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw shadowed by neatly-trimmed stubble, he had a boy-next-door appeal--if the boy next door happened to be working as a model for the world’s worst sweater company. In the opinion of Lacey’s sister-in-law, Julian was only single because he was married to his work in some university department, but Lacey doubted that was the reason. If he stared at all women the way he was staring at her, the women had good reason to keep their distance.

Dinner was served and eaten with no mishaps. Cleanup was a breeze. Presents were handed out and unwrapped without disaster. And she still, in quiet moments, caught Julian studying her with unusual intensity. What was up with him? He hadn’t done this on previous loops--or maybe she’d just been too distracted to notice it. If he didn’t stop it soon, she’d miss a cue, tumble into disaster, and have to live this day all over again.

While the rest of the family wandered into the dining room for refreshments, Lacey stayed near the tree, picking up the last bits of wrapping paper and defending the tree from the handful of kids playing with their new toys. She moved on reflex, deflecting a rubber ball, a foam dart, a runaway remote-control car. One, two, three, like a dance, and then on beat four, in perfect time, she pivoted on one foot to catch a ball of crumpled wrapping paper.

And found herself nose-to-nose with Julian, his hand around her outstretched wrist.

Those blue eyes stared into hers. “You’ve lived this day before.”

It wasn’t a question or a joke. It was a statement of fact.

Lacey met that gaze straight-on. “What did you say you teach at the university?”

“Temporal mechanics.”

“Ah.” Lacey dropped the wrapping paper.

He let go of her wrist. “I don’t have much practical experience, but when I see my hostess unexpectedly developing superhuman reflexes and responding to statements before they’re spoken, I start to think that either she’s the world’s most boring psychic, or she’s making use of that pretty little bangle on her arm that looks alarmingly like an antique temporal elastic.”

Lacey tugged her sweater sleeve over the twisted copper casing and red control stones of her overworked time travel device. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

“How many times have you done this loop?”

Lacey pushed up her sleeve and counted the tally marks on her arm. “52.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s almost two months of Christmas Day.”

Lacey’s shoulders fell. “I am sick to death of turkey.”

A silence fell between them that was louder than the chatter from the dining room. Finally, he straightened the sleeve of the Ugly Sweater and said, “Putting aside your obvious mental instability and the frankly fascinating paradox storm that must be swirling around us at the moment--remind me to bring some instruments here within the next twenty-four hours--I have to ask: Why?”

She looked at a fragment of ribbon on the carpet and rasped, “I have to get it right.”

The crowd started trickling back in, pooling around the couches while holding plates of goodies and glasses of wine.

As the noise rose, Julian gave her a significant glance “I think we should talk about this somewhere quieter.”

She stepped back, brushing the tree. “I don’t need to go anywhere with you.”

“I think you do. You’ve got two months of memories to work through. You can’t keep that to yourself. You’ll go crazy.”

He wasn’t wrong. She had already learned why the Guild recommended against these sorts of changes--holding onto these alternate timelines was exhausting. She could do with a debrief.

But she had no time for a break. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m hostess.”

“They can look after themselves for half an hour.” Julian opened the door to the hall and waved her through. “And if not?” He shrugged. “What’s one more loop?”

It was an odd kind of Christmas weather--cold enough to send fluffy flakes scattering, but warm enough that they needed only earmuffs and scarves and didn’t even bother zipping up their light jackets. She lounged with Julian on the wood steps of the back porch, watching the flakes fall while they sipped at mulled wine.

Julian threw back his head and laughed as Lacey finished telling him about one of the earliest of her failed Christmases. “The whole tree?” he gasped. “The cat just--” He held one arm upright and used the other to mime a cat clamping onto the tree and sending it toppling. “Why did you redo that one? No one would have forgotten that Christmas.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

He sobered. “The cat didn’t get hurt, did it?”

“No, Fluffy was fine.”

“Anyone else injured?”

“No. “

“Property damage? Lost family heirlooms?”

“No. It was a gentle fall, and the only family ornaments on that tree were the pom-pom panda bears. They're resilient.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem?” Only a guy who wore reindeer sweaters would need this concept explained. “The problem is that no one wants the Christmas party interrupted by a toppling tree. It’s a nightmare. Chaos.”

“But memorable.”

“No one wants those types of memories.”

“Those are the only ones people actually remember. If Christmas goes smoothly, everyone forgets it in a month or two. But ‘the year Lacey’s cat took down the tree’? They’d go back to that story for years.”

“How does that make it better? I don’t want them constantly rehashing my failures as a hostess.”

“How is that failing? You provided good food, a comfortable home, a lovely tree. That’s not changed by a few mishaps.”

“This was more than a few mishaps.”

“Only because you’ve done it fifty-two times.” He leaned back against the wall of the house and lifted the steaming mug closer to his face. “What gave you this idea that Christmas has to be perfect?”

She twisted the time travel bangle on her wrist. “My mom...she died last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

She swallowed a lump. “She always hosted these perfect Christmas parties. She’d plan them for months and everything just ran like clockwork.”

His eyebrows rose. He pointed toward the bangle. “Did she...?”

Lacey pushed it beneath her sleeve. “No, never. We never knew it existed until we were going through my grandma’s things a few years ago.”

He relaxed. “That’s a relief. I thought I was going to have to get this place declared a temporal wasteland.”

Lacey chuckled. “Even if she’d had it, she wouldn’t have needed it. Her parties were works of art. Beautiful decorations, perfect food, everyone laughing and singing carols by the end of the night. When I asked her why she did it, she told me, ‘Lacey, these people are giving you their Christmas. It’s your job to give them the best Christmas you can.’” She sipped at her mug to swallow back tears. “When she died, that job fell to me. And when everything went wrong, I had to fix it.”

“Fifty-two times.”

She shrugged. “As many times as it took.”

“I doubt she’d have said your duties extended that far.”

“You’re probably right. But once I went in quest of the perfect Christmas, I couldn’t settle for anything less. It would have felt like dishonoring her memory.”

“It wouldn’t have been. I’m sure her Christmases had plenty of flaws.”

“Not as many as mine.”

Julian ran a finger along the edge of his mug. “You have this idea that everyone wants a Christmas of picture-perfect trees and crackling fires and cozy rooms without a speck of dust out of place. But if they wanted that, they could stay at home and look at pictures on the streambox. They come here because they want your Christmas. Burnt turkeys and cat-toppled trees and all. They want you experiencing it with them. Not fifty-two alternate versions of them.”

She fingered the fringe on the edge of her scarf. “I suppose not. But what’s wrong with trying for the perfect Christmas?”

“Lacey, there’s no such thing as the perfect Christmas. There’s never been one at any time, anywhere in the world.” He bunched up snow in one hand and tossed it into the darkness. “Even the first Christmas wasn’t perfect. Do you think Mary planned to let her child sleep in a feeding trough? Do you think Joseph planned to let strange shepherds gawk at his son? It was one long exercise in embracing the unexpected, and it created one of the most memorable stories in human history. Do you think your mother would call that a failure?”

This had gotten more abstract than Lacey had expected. A little dazed, she said, “No. No, of course not.”

“You want to control every little detail, but no one can do that.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “You don’t get the perfect Christmas by crafting it. You get it by appreciating the one you’re given.”

She knit her fingers into his. “A gift,” Lacey said.

He smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

They stepped into the laundry room together, brushing the snowflakes out of their hair.

Julian held up his mug, which held one last swallow of wine. “To Christmas,” he said.

Lacey clinked her mug against his. “Whatever we’re given.”

Throwing back their heads, they drained the dregs, then set the empty mugs on the window ledge.

Then hand in hand, they crouched down and let Fluffy out of her cage.

#adventures in writing #the sci fi christmas special saga #hallmark #christmas #yes i'm publishing a christmas story on halloween #this is my blog i can do what i want #i'm just surprised that this came together as easily as it did and i'm riding this high #and yes it's not really sci fi just an ever so slightly tilted version of the usual fantasy plot #but it gave me a chance to make fun of hallmark tropes while also fully indulging my every saccharine impulse #so thank you for putting up with me

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peace-coast-island · 4 years ago

Text

Diary of a Junebug

Fields of rainbow cecelias

They say that rainbow cecelias represent change, transformation, and new beginnings. To see a field of them in full bloom is no coincidence, a sign that it's time to move forward.

When the rainbow cecelias bloom, pay attention and take things as they come. Change can be overwhelming and scary, but also necessary. After all, we all aren't meant to stagnate, to become fixed in a position that may no longer serve us. It's hard, but we all have to move on, to grow and adapt, to let go and open yourself up to the unknown.

The newly reunited land of Mystic Heart has got me thinking about change, especially with what's going on over there right now. Basically, in short, the land used to rule as one before war tore it apart. For centuries the separate factions kept their distance while trying to gain the upper hand in an attempt to take over. In an attempt to bring the nation together, disaster happened and for years the land became barren as previously sealed off demons were reawakened and wreaked havoc. If it weren't for Mali and her comrades, the wonderbeasts wouldn't have been revived and the land be reunited as one.

It's been five years since then and now it's time to take the next step to bring forth this new era. The transition has been gradual and something that everyone knew was coming but it's one of those things where you can't really prepare for. After generations of ruling their own factions, the Five Families of Mystic Heart are stepping down for good, leaving the land to be ruled by the people and the wonderbeasts.

For people like Mali and her father, they knew that this day was coming, mainly because that's what they wanted. The older members will be retiring while for the others, it just means they no longer have a title. Mali and Alya will continue to be diplomats while their parents are still gonna guard captains, the main difference is that they no longer have to bear the responsibilities of ruling the land. As for those who are succeeding them, the Five have placed a lot of trust in these capable citizens so the future of Mystic Heart are in good hands.

This year's Dragon Flight Festival is special as it marks the start of this new era. A lot has changed since I last visited and since then, the land has been thriving. I remember before when things were still new and uncertain, everyone was getting along but there's still a lot of hurdles to go through. Now, a few years later, it's almost different, and that's when Mali and the others knew it was time to take the next step.

There's an abundance of rainbow cecelias this year. Colorful petals in all the shades of the rainbow, open and reaching out towards the sky. It's a marvelous sight to see, something that has never occurred before so everyone's taking the time to enjoy it for we'll never know when we'll ever see them again. From what I've heard, it seems like rainbow cecelias have a mind of their own, the kind of flowers that only bloom when they want to convey a message.

Mali and Alya have been super busy with the festival. In fact, Mali's been so busy that she hasn't had too much free time to rest in the past few months. Being a diplomat and ambassador's hard work so Mali's been out and about a lot. Alya's considering taking on some of Mali's workload, which I think will be super helpful. The others speculate that part of the reason why Alya wants to help out is to keep tabs on Mali. As Mali's schedule becomes busier, her friends and family rarely see her so with Alya around, at least she can have a better work life balance as well as give her father some peace of mind.

At least with the festival preparations out of the way, Mali can finally relax a bit. Though not for long as she and Kun have a business trip coming up. Kun is Mali's adoptive brother, a kid she took in after he lost his family in the disaster years ago. I was surprised not to see too much of him with setting up the festivities. He's a bit of a mischief maker, the kind of guy who easily ropes others into his schemes. Turns out he got into some sort of trouble - as in Mali's father, who's usually fair and forgiving, had to put his foot down and enforce strict rules - so he's trying to get back on his - and everyone else's - good side. Mali admits to spoiling him a bit, which is understandable given what he's been through, but at the same time it makes him get away with certain things a bit too easily.

During the daytime we got competitive through various games. I'll admit, I'm not the best at them, but it was a lot of fun! Mali knocked it out of the park with her archery skills when it comes to shooting balloons. Working with a bow and arrow is hard, especially if you're bad at aiming. She's a good teacher though, so while my archery skills still leave much to be desired, at least there's a chance I can improve.

Then there's the gliding challenge where it's basically like skydiving while collecting floating petal orbs. The more you get, the more points you score. Thank you Amber for teaching me the basics of wind gliding as using that knowledge helped a bit in terms of controlling where I fall. It's a bit scary since you do have to look down, but rest assured that you don't have to worry about falling to your death - seriously, they pretty much planned for everything from mishaps to weather. Just floating about is kinda relaxing once you get over the initial fear of falling and collecting orbs is satisfying. Also, it's cool to see the festivities from high above.

Along with the beautiful display of flowers, another highlight of the festival is the music. The rhythm games were a lot of fun, especially with instruments I've never played before. Kun joined us for some matches and he absolutely killed it on the sitar! He even went on stage for a bit and put on an impromptu performance with his friends.

The challenges that involve memorization were tricky - a bit frustrating, but still fun nonetheless. One of them involved falling platforms - you have to memorize the path when the room gets dark and get to the other side before the timer runs out. Step on the correct tile and it'll light up, step on the wrong one, the floor opens up and you fall in the water. Compared to the other one, this wasn't as hard - the trick is to count your steps carefully.

As for the other one, where the tiles turn invisible, I can't seem to get through that one without falling at least five times. Still, it's fun, especially with friends, and the water's refreshing on a hot day like today. Of course, Mali and Alya were able to avoid falling and reach the other side well before the time limit. Those tiles are really tricky!

Out of all the challenges we did, I have to say, my least favorite was the bubble one. Those things are super fast and once you're trapped, it's hard to get out. To make matters worse, the bubbles keep coming so if you're in a bad spot, you're pretty much continuously trapped in a bubble. Even Mali and Alya struggled while I think Kun had the least trouble, mainly because he's able to jump over some. I mean, it's still sorta fun, but more on the frustrating side, especially when you're trapped in a bubble for pretty much the whole time.

Around late afternoon/early evening we took a break from the festivities to look around the shoreline. Near the mountains stood the ballista mechanicus, a device built by Mali's mother that is still used to defend the land. It will send a signal to warn of imminent danger - which thankfully hasn't happened since the reunification. So now it's more of a surveillance device, something to look through if you want to find something or just take a glance of the land around us. In other words, it's basically a super cool telescope.

Seeing the festivities through the ballista mechanica was pretty cool! The device as a whole is an interesting piece of machinery. There's a few more ballista mechanicas scattered around the area, though most are no longer in use. Mali says there's plans of either reusing the old ones or building brand new ones to put in other locations. That'll widely depend on the conditions of the other devices - she's kinda hoping for the former because it'll probably be easier than building one from scratch. At least they have her mom's blueprints but from what she's seen, it looks complicated.

We also walked around some of the ruins, some from not too long ago. Seeing them up close like that, it really drives home how much things can change in a short time. To think that years ago this place almost laid in waste and now it's prospering in a new era of peace - it's amazing.

There, we ran into the dragons and hung out with them. Sisi, as usual, was the life of the party. She's kinda like the cool aunt to Mali and Kun, a bit eccentric and silly, but occasionally drops some wisdom here and there. Sisi was a sought after creature, believed to be the last living wonderbeast before the others were revived, and she laid dormant for centuries before being awakened by Mali. And as they say, the rest is history.

Now, Sisi and the wonderbeasts are just living out their days. While dragons are still very much a part of the culture, they're not as revered as they once were - kinda like the Five. They're still guardians of the land, watching from afar. Sisi says it's like a weight has been taken off their shoulders, that watching over Mystic Heart is no longer the sole responsibility of the dragons. Instead, it is now a pact with the people to maintain peace and build a better future together. I think that's a nice way of putting it and I agree.

Sisi took us on a tour - first class flight, she calls it. Seeing Mystic Heart from above is breathtaking - the landscape looks like a dragon! It was so cool seeing the other areas and how they're doing! A lot I couldn't recognize as so much has changed. Seeing everything flourishing is beautiful. More than that, it gives me hope.

By the time we got back, it was night so we headed straight back to the festivities, just in time for the dragons to show up. We enjoyed the local cuisine while watching the performances. Then we did some challenges - I did a bit better on most other than the bubble one. Sisi later joined us and even she struggled with the bubbles - and she can fly!

At night, the blooms of the rainbow cecelia seem more vibrant. I swear, I think there's more of them now than earlier today.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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shireness-says · 5 years ago

Text

Swan’s Seven (4/?)

Summary: After two years behind bars, Emma’s out, and she’s got a plan in mind. Now to put together the perfect team… Let’s stage an art heist. (A CS Ocean’s 8 AU) ~3.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

~~~~~

A/N: Hello, all. It’s been a while on this one. 11 months, nearly to the day. Word to the wise: don’t sign up for six writing events all at once. The good news is there’s not a lot to refresh on, if you need the refresher! The gist: we’re robbing an art galley, and CS are trying to come back from starting out on the wrong foot.

Thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, and to YOU ALL for being so patient with me.

Tags: @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot, @superchocovian, @welllpthisishappening, @ohmightydevviepuu. Shoot me a message if you want to be added/taken off the list.

And a last note: last September, @spartanguard made some AMAZING fan art for me! Check it out and give her love, if you haven’t already!

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma makes her living off of first impressions and gut feelings. She’s a career con; those feelings can keep you alive and out of jail. Emma prides herself on rarely being wrong, with few (if spectacular - looking at you, Neal) exceptions.

Perhaps that’s why it rankles so much that she finds herself liking Killian Jones - it’s an admittance that her first impression, that he was nothing but a cocky bastard there to undermine her, was wrong. But underneath that seems to be a kind man, a polite and chivalrous one, a man who held the door for Elsa this morning and is currently with Belle unwrapping some kind of machine for replicating bronzes, as promised, the both of them displaying near-childlike glee at the new toy. It’s a side of him that Emma hadn’t expected to see, given those first few disastrous interactions.

(The side of him, so to speak, that Emma is treated to watching Killian bend over the box isn’t half bad either.)

A low whistle sounds from over Emma’s shoulder where she leans against the bar, almost as if she conjured it into existence. That’s not the case, of course; Ruby may be practicing her drink mixing before she starts at Robin’s tomorrow, plying them all with dangerously strong cocktails in the process, but as far as Emma’s aware, the saucy brunette isn’t any sort of mindreader.

“Damn if that’s not a pretty sight,” Ruby comments with a smirk as she measures out a hefty shot of vodka. “I love a man who can fill out a pair of jeans right.”

“I thought you were more interested in a woman who can fill out a pair of jeans right.” It’s not a criticism - just, apparently, a significant misread on Emma’s part. Another one.

Or not. “Baby, I’m not picky,” Ruby winks. “I like everyone. Just say the word if you’re ever interested.”

“Not really looking - especially not if it mixes business with pleasure - but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby hums. “That mean you won’t ever make a move on Jones?”

“Why would I ever want to make a move on Jones?” Emma snorts.

Ruby just shrugs in response. “I don’t know. You two have got that charged tension going on. It’s a lot more fun to fuck it out than fight it out. You can’t deny he’s easy on the eyes, either - I’ve seen you looking.”

It’s a little too late to claim she was watching where Regina and Elsa hover over a laptop, monitoring the feed from Tink’s glasses from her first day at her new internship. That just leaves sarcasm to fall back on - always a solid choice. “Yeah, well, I’ve been in a women’s prison for two years. Can’t blame a red-blooded American woman for looking.”

“I’ll let you pretend that’s all it is. For now.” As if to accentuate, Ruby slides a bright aqua cocktail across the counter. “Enjoy your Blue Motherfucker.”

(Emma didn’t order the cocktail by any stretch of the imagination, but damn, does that burn feel good going down.)

Liquid courage doesn’t have anything to do with the way she saunters over to meet Killian where he hunches over an instruction manual. At the sound of her boots on the industrial concrete, his head snaps to attention, turning to meet her face to face.

“What can I do for you, Swan?” he asks with that smirk she’s learning is just an affectation. She thinks it might be armor, the same way she wears her red leather jacket; warn everyone away and you won’t get hurt.

“What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Depends. What are you about to propose?”

“How about you and I have a little date at an art gallery?”

———

“Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, darling,” Killian murmurs in her ear, “but next time - I plan the date.”

“You seem awfully sure that there will be another date,” Emma snarks back. “Think highly of yourself, don’t you? And I’m not your darling.”

“What can I say, love - I can’t help that I’m devilishly handsome and charming. I’ve found it a winning combination.”

“Not your love, either.”

It’s not actually a date - just something intended to look like one. To anyone else at the gallery, they look like a pair of lovers, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they observe the masterpieces. All the while, Elsa observes exactly where the boundaries of each video camera lie from her computer back at the Poison Apple as Emma and Killian slink past corners with a faux-smitten giggle or tug on the lapel of a leather jacket.

“You are aware that we can hear you, right?” Regina drawls in the hidden earpiece they both wear.

“As if I could ever forget you, Madame Mills,” Killian replies smoothly. “I must say, I wouldn’t normally invite someone else along on an afternoon romantic excursion, but if the lovely Swan enjoys someone else listening in to… shall we say, private moments, then I am happy to —”

“So help me God, if you finish that sentence, I will remove your balls with my pocket knife,” Emma interrupts.

“Ah, so you like them quiet too.” At her sharp look - one she’s sure could cut through steel if she just tried hard enough - Killian bows his head in concession. “I’ll stop, if only for the sake of my anatomy.”

“Good decision.”

“And I’ll repeat, we can hear you,” Regina snaps into their earpieces.

(Emma will never admit that in the midst of the banter, she forgot.)

“Alright, Your Majesty, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Killian’s voice isn’t exactly soothing, but it’s something approaching conciliatory. Emma just hopes the cameras aren’t so good as to see the way he winks, completely contradicting his words.

“How’s it going, Elsa?” Emma asks under her breath, hoping to change the subject. Turning things back towards the reason she and Killian are here in the first place.

“Just fine, Emma,” Elsa’s calm voice trails through the ear piece. “The cameras up front will be… somewhat trickier to manipulate just due to sheer numbers, as you can imagine, but doable. I’ll work on dissecting their alarm system on the displayed paintings next. I would appreciate a closer pass around the doors to the staff-only areas, if you don’t mind terribly.”

“Not at all.”

Slowly, they make their way towards Elsa’s directed areas, keeping a leisurely pace and making sure to stop and briefly examine the works on the walls as they go, maintaining their facade as a somewhat distracted young couple. Jones pauses for a particularly long time to examine an impressionistic landscape Emma won’t pretend to recognize without the assistance of the side label she has no intention of looking at. By all appearances, he sees something in there that she doesn’t.

“Shopping, are we?” she leans up to whisper in his ear. It’s not flirting, not really; not real flirting anyways. It’s just all for show, and Emma? Well, she’s a born actress when it comes to a con.

“‘Fraid I don’t have the space on my walls, darling,” he smirks. “Ask me again in a few weeks, maybe I’ll have a bigger, better place. In the meantime, just admiring the colors.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an art enthusiast,” Emma comments as they finally saunter into the particular camera’s range, extracting the gallery guide from her back jeans pocket to give herself a reason to stop.

“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it from an amateur standpoint.” He leans in close - for show, of course, all for show - to whisper back in her own ear. “Now let’s hurry up and finish so we can get out of here.”

Emma tosses him a sideways look. “This may seem like a date, but you’re not getting lucky, buddy.”

“And I’d never presume as such. Now, Elsa, what else do you need?”

“A round by the other staff doors, and then just a final pass by the front guard’s desk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, lass.”

Killian may be an annoyance, but he really does make a good partner for this kind of thing. Two people on a date is a good reason to stop, to linger, especially in inappropriate places and at inappropriate times. And Jones? Jones is a master of suggestive smirks and flirtatious gazes whose salacious intimacy turns guards’ eyes away. By all appearances, they’re two people going through the motions of a date and just biding their time before some more enjoyable activities - at least on his side.

Emma is fine playing along; it’s easy enough to make the effort to linger in his space - all for appearances, of course - and create little affectionate touches. Hell, it’s even fun to slip her hand into the back pocket of Killian’s jeans and imprint to her memory the way he tries so hard not to jump in surprise at the gesture. But all the while, her mind is elsewhere - cataloging entrance and exit routes, taking note of pieces they’ll want to target, and remembering the faces of the guards to relay to Ruby later. This is work, not fun time; any enjoyment she might be finding is secondary to their goals.

“You can relax now, Swan,” Killian comments once they’ve finally made their way back outside and down the block, tapping at his earpiece to turn it off while Emma does the same. She’s had rather enough of Regina’s particular brand of sarcasm today.

“I’m always relaxed,” she all but snaps back. It rather undermines her own point, but whatever.

“Oh yes, that’s so clearly evidenced by the set of your shoulders. Tell me, are they supposed to sit quite that high and tense?”

Carefully, she makes sure to relax her posture. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you don’t.” Killian’s smile nearly sparkles, even in the middle of that mocking, not that she’d let it distract her. No, Emma is made of sterner stuff than that. With a quirk of an eyebrow, he slings an arm - the one with a hand, she notices - over those same shoulders. “C’mon, Swan, let’s go down to the bar and check on Ruby,” he declares. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Emma debates shrugging his arm off, coming back with another snappy quip, but ultimately decides against it; some things just aren’t worth the effort when it’s been a weird day and she’s tired. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have questions about this little side trip he’s proposing. “Why?”

“Why do I want to buy you a drink? Well, Swan, when a single man - like myself - meets a pretty young lady —”

“You know what I mean, smartass. Why do you want to go to the bar?”

“Ah, that. Well, you’re a bit of an open book Swan, and one who likes to hold all the cards. You’ve been carefully steering this whole data-gathering enterprise; I can tell you want to check in on how Ruby’s doing. I’d never call you a control freak, of course - that’d be terribly bad form - but, well…”

“I am not a control freak,” Emma protests.

“No?”

“No. Regina is a control freak. I am a… control enthusiast.”

“Kinky.”

“Do you just want me to use my pocket knife on you? Is that it?”

“That’s a little too kinky for me, actually, but if that changes at any point, I do promise, Swan, you’ll be the very first to know.”

With a glare, Emma reaches for her back pocket. There’s something so satisfying about the way Jones lifts both his hands in surrender at her renewed threat.

“Alright, Swan, I yield,” he laughs. “Might be best to add another drink onto what I owe you, call it an apology.”

“Make it something dark and strong and you’re on.”

Ruby is, by all appearances, more than fine behind the bar at the Den of Thieves - at least if the tip jar is any indicator. Her low cut blouse and that particular sway of her hips probably helps, but Ruby is naturally predisposed to this kind of thing, friendly and just a little bit flirty and a people person in her very core in a way Emma could never manage. The peppy brunette gives no indication of recognizing either Emma or Killian as she serves them, but their drinks, even for being simple, are prepared and delivered in record time, along with a basket of onion rings a few minutes later than Emma never even had to ask for.

“So,” Killian says once they’ve nearly finished their first drinks - rum for him, bourbon for her - and put in an order for a basket of wings, tucking his hands jauntily beneath his chin. “Tell me about yourself.”

“This isn’t a real date, Jones,” Emma quips back, draining her glass and signalling a Ruby for a refill. “Sorry to break it to you, but that touchy feely business back at the gallery? All for show.”

Killian clutches at his chest dramatically. “Break a man’s heart, why don’t you, Swan?”

Emma just shrugs, reaching for another onion ring. No real way to respond to that, and no real need, either.

“But really, Swan. Tell me something.”

“Well, I’m a Scorpio, I like long walks on the beach, and I’m just looking for that perfect partner in crime, you know?” Emma replies, purposefully pitching her voice high and giggly.

“Oh, now that was funny, love. Partner in crime - I see what you did there.”

“I couldn’t possibly begin to understand what you mean.” Batting her eyelashes really sells the effect, in Emma’s opinion.

“Picture of innocence, truly.”

“That’s me.” Emma quickly nods her thanks as one of Robin’s regular staff deposits their wings platter, picking up and twirling a saucy drumette between her fingers. “Why do you want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Killian shrugs, reaching for his own bite. “As long as we’re working together, I figured it’d be nice to get to know each other. We don’t have to, I suppose, but I thought it might be preferable to sitting in silence.”

“What, 20 Questions then?”

“Aye. I’ll even let you go first.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.”

“Yes, but I’m also a gentleman. Ask your questions, Swan.”

“Fine.” The problem is, Emma doesn’t really know what she wants to ask. But the silence sits there, complete with an expectant look on Jones’ face, and she finally settles on a cop-out of a question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Unexpected choice of question. I like it. Blue grey, like the ocean on a windy day. Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?”

“Oh, and you said I picked something unexpected. Pancakes. With chocolate chips and whipped cream. Fantasy heist?”

“Some old sailing ship. Really embrace the pirate vibe. Any hobbies?”

Emma looks at him skeptically. “Does art theft not count?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. It’s a nice sound, not that she’s paying attention. “Back to you.”

“Dream trip?”

“Someplace ancient. Maybe Greece. Ask me again next week and I’ll tell you something different. How do you take your coffee?”

“This feels like some kind of sly come-on,” Emma comments wryly.

“And that feels like avoidance. Answer the question, Swan.”

“Fine. I take it in the form of hot chocolate. With cinnamon. If I need the caffeine I’ll shotgun a Red Bull or something instead.”

“Red Bull? That’s disgusting, Swan.”

“That’s effective. And it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“So ask it.”

She pauses just a moment before diving in. “How did you find your way into this business?” Even as Emma speaks the words, she knows this is what they’ve been leading up to - why he, a man who should be able to make a respectable living, has wound up here, trafficking stolen goods. It doesn’t make sense, even if he is excellent at his job.

“Ah.” Killian’s smile is visibly strained as his head bows to address the table instead of Emma’s face. “It’s not a particularly noble story, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Emma rushes to assure him. “I know when you suggested this game you didn’t think that —”

“It’s fine, Swan, really. I was never some knight in shining armor anyways.” He knocks back the rest of his drink quickly and signals for another. “I was actually in the Royal Navy for a stretch. Joined up with my brother.”

“That… actually makes sense. How’d a nice Navy boy turn to the life of crime?”

“Lost my brother, lost my hand. Was left with… pretty much nothing, really.” He jiggles the empty glass like a nervous habit, making the remaining ice cubes click softly together. “Found myself very at ends. And then, Will Scarlet sauntered back into my life, needed help.”

“Wait - Will Scarlet?” Emma should let him finish the story, but she knows that name. Fuck, she’s worked with that name before. “You know Will Scarlet?”

“Aye. Grew up together, actually, though we took very different paths after graduation. I take it you know him as well?”

“Pickpocket and thief? Kind of an asshole?”

“Oh, an absolute right bastard when he wants to be. Which he does, nine times out of ten. But he’s a loyal friend, and when I was drinking my benefits away at any pub I could find, not much caring whether I lived or died, he came to me and told me he needed help. Someone charming enough to help him get a good price on one of his larger pulls. And it just kind of… spiraled from there. Half of dealing in stolen goods is charm, you know. Charm enough to talk a price up or down, or convince a buyer that there’s absolutely no way a purchase can ever be traced back to them even when you know you can’t promise it. It’s a good fit for, if not the one I anticipated when I first joined up, fresh out of school. What about you, though?” he asks, quickly changing the subject. “How’d a lovely young lady like you embrace the life of crime?”

This isn’t really a story Emma likes to tell; Regina only weaseled it out of her after several years and quite a lot of tequila. But it seems like something she should tell Killian - tit for tat, and all that. Besides, he bared his soul to her, and all because she asked; it’s only right that she do the same.

“It was probably inevitable, one way or another,” she admits. “I, uh… I grew up alone. No parents, ward of the state, blah blah blah. A couple of prospective adoptions that didn’t happen when I was little and then a whole chain of temporary group homes. Until…”

“Until?” Killian gently prompts when Emma doesn’t pick back up immediately.

“Until I ran away from the umpteenth foster home or group home - I honestly don’t remember which - and David caught me trying to shoplift from a gas station.”

“Ah. The infamous brother.”

“The very one,” Emma agrees. “Who you obviously know now isn’t my real brother. But he was… he kind of took me under his wing, you know? In a way I didn’t expect at 15. His father was a big name in certain circles - less than legal circles. Robert Nolan. Infamous for faking his own death a couple times. And they took me in - David and Robert and his wife, Ruth. Turns out angels or saints or whatever the fuck you want to call them don’t necessarily live on the right side of the law. Robert taught me to pick my first lock, and, well, the rest was history, as the mysterious they always say.”

“That’s nice, in a larcenous kind of way.”

“It was. Is? Robert died, for real this time, a few years back. Ruth’s still around, though. Made sure to come visit me in prison, even when I told her to stay away. Moms, I guess.”

“And your brother? He didn’t…”

“Wind up dead or behind bars?” Emma completes. “No. Though he might as well have. David was the safe-cracker on the east coast for a while, but he retired.”

“No shit?”

“None to speak of. Met a schoolteacher, got married, moved out to Maine. They’ve got an honest-to-God farm, with sheep and a tractor and… other farm things that I never want to know about.”

“Different strokes, I suppose.”

“Or something. I’m just happy he’s happy. Maybe when this is over I’ll drop in for a visit. Try my hand at gathering eggs or something.”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Killian smiles. “Especially if you haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Yeah, well, if he doesn’t, too bad. He’s the one who adopted me, not the other way ‘round,” she comments, raising her glass in a mock salute. She likes the way it makes him laugh - though that might just be the bourbon talking. “I think it’s time for… literally any other question, honestly. Tell me about the pirate fixation.”

Gratefully, Killian lets her change the subject. “Ah. Well, you see, when I was a young boy, my brother read me Peter Pan…”

———

It’s just a drink. Well, several drinks, and a basket of onion rings and a wing platter. But it somehow makes Killian a person, a person Emma could actually like, instead of some man with an attitude she didn’t want on her team at the beginning of all of this. She knows a thing or two about defense mechanisms and emotional armor anyways.

“Oh, please tell me that you and Jones just buried the proverbial hatchet and not the euphemistic one,” Regina groans after Killian hands Emma a coffee cup with a wink the next morning. A large hot chocolate. With a healthy sprinkle of cinnamon on the top.

Seems he might have listened, just a bit.

“Okay, first of all, the euphemistic hatchet is not a thing. Like, that’s not a phrase. And if it was, I don’t think Jones needs that kind of ego boost. We’d never hear the end of it,” Emma argues.

“None of this sounds like a denial.”

“Well, it is. Because - second of all - we did not have sex. Which is the phrase real adults use.”

“Calling yourself a real adult undermines the spirit of the thing.”

Emma flips her off. It’s earned.

“Fine. You didn’t have sex. So this is all just… you suddenly discovering a new and more forgiving side of yourself?”

“Well, you know, I figured he was less insufferable than you, Reg, and it was all sunshine and roses from there.”

“Fair enough.” Regina holds out her own coffee cup - doubtless filled with some disgusting double shot concoction she ordered herself from an uppity coffee shop - to tap against Emma’s. “I’m just glad to see you two getting along better. Though maybe we could hear it less.”

“I make no promises.”

Across the room, Killian meets her eyes with a smile from where he’s listening to something Tink is saying, and Emma can’t help but smile back. They would have managed this job even if Killian and her hadn’t come to this agreement (detente, he’d probably say), but she can’t deny this makes things easier.

Alright, Swan? he mouths from across the room, smiling even wider when she nods in return.

It’s just drinks, and it’s just coffee - but it’s a start.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #Swan's Seven #my writing #Ocean's 8 AU #in which the banter is truly off the chart

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