#i need you to know ive been jumping up and down and spinning in circles ever since i noticed the tag

[artshokad2]

The unthinkable happened right when i was going to join in wip Wednesday unprompted @twodiamondhoes tagged me in it

I was going to do something a little more recent but the day snuck up on me so have a really old snippet from a fic i may or may not finish that i wrote in a haze of finals stress while listening to “Sleeping in the Kitchen” by Madilyn Mei on loop

Jimmy Solidarity my beloved

Its a little out of my usual style because music possesses me in a way thats a little concerning sometimes but i had fun with it!

Tagging @gladumfdoodles who i know always has a snippet locked and loaded, @raffi-cat who should share their writing more in my humble opinion, @sincerely-nines because my favorite moot you should write fanfic… if you want…

and my friend ani whose tumblr @ is not working rn so im just going to send this to them but they should share their writing on tumblr!!! Its so fun!!

(No pressure to anyone, tis supposed to be for fun :D)

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

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[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part II

Word Count: 1,846 Warnings: References to drug use. PTSD. Ben Affleck. As always, if I forgot anything please message me and I'll amend this warning. A/N: Protect Francisco Morales at all goddamn costs, honestly. 

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fish?”

He cringes inward at his military nickname, it rips at his heart hearing it drip from his best friend’s mouth now. This man he would die for, almost has died for. None of the others had called him that in years, he insisted on Frankie with them. But he’d barely heard from Santiago, had no way of telling him.

He hears the words he’s saying, same shit he always says:

“I need a pilot. I can’t do this thing without you."

Years of that shit pulling him into another tour here. A deployment there. Again and again. Long after he served his sentence and was free to go.

“I don’t know, man. I got the new baby now,” he beams. Santi didn't know Luna and all Frankie wanted to do was tell him about her but he holds back, opting instead for, “And my lady isn’t into my doing this kinda shit anymore.”

He looks back at Will, a knowing look exchanged between the two. He is begging for his brother to step in, say something. Save him. He’s throwing Leah under the bus but, fuck it, it’s true. She isn’t into him doing this kinda shit anymore. And she wasn’t the biggest fan of Santi, always coming up with shit to get the rest of the boys into.

“Wha—what does that mean?”

Frankie lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding all day and stands, knowing he’ll start shaking if he doesn’t. The knee bouncing is getting out of hand but he was hesitant to seek out anti anxiety medication while detoxing. He’d just sweat it all out anyway. Santiago’s droning on behind him, hell bent on staving off rejection.

“Did you read the text? This can change you and that baby’s life forever.”

Leave it to Santi to exclude Leah, he wasn’t necessarily her biggest fan either. But to just gloss right over her? Didn’t even fucking ask Luna’s name.

He crosses his arms, “What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?”

Santiago stares him down, a power grab of a laugh escaping him.

“Anyway, I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.” Please just drop it, please just drop it, please just drop it.

Benny’s wrapping his knuckles. William’s looking between the two. And Santiago? Santiago is closing the space between them.

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I’m in with the army down there,” he says as if that makes things better. It doesn’t. He knows it, Frankie knows it, the Millers know it. But if there’s one thing Santiago Garcia gets, it’s his fucking way.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Frankie’s firm, he’s not fucking doing it this time. He’s worked too goddamn hard on everything. Built a life out of rubble and was this close to pissing it away, he’s not gonna seal the deal on Leah’s promise to go.

Santi paces, frustrated, “Lorea is destroying that country. So we get to take out a very bad man, and, oh, by the way, there’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” He says that last bit with a mock tone and he’s smiling, believing he’s got Frankie now. A bit of a tease to rile his best friend up, get him laughing, get him in it. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this.”

“Come on, focus, guys! It’s fight night.” —————

“Hey!” He catches up with Santi in the hall, “I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit.”

He didn’t, really. He knows where Santiago’s coming from but he can’t be the one in the thick of it anymore.

Another of those cool, indignant laughs, “It's all right.”

“I got busted,” Frankie says coolly, like he’s letting you know he left the light on, “it’s not a big deal.”

Santi’s head snaps to the right.

“Actually,” the taller of the two continues, “It's a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santiago’s trying not to let Frank’s addiction shock him, scoffing, “Jesus, Frankie.”

“Technically, it’s a suspension, I’m still under review but… it fucked everything up with Leah. I’ve been detoxing in Will’s spare room for weeks.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know before the suspension? I don’t buy that.” Frankie tried to ignore the venom in his words.

“No, she knew. We’ve been in couple’s counseling while I’ve been getting clean, she said she didn’t know it was as often as it was. Just thought it was a hit here and there.”

“So things are good still?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, “We seem to have gotten back to good but that’s not where I wanna be, Pope. I wanna be great.” He looks to Santi and then Will, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

There was no doubt in the world where Benny stood. He’d follow Santiago into hell. He pretty much had on more than one occasion but Benny always was a wildcard. Will was too calculated for that bullshit, he needed a plan. He needed foundation under his feet, not just charisma and Frankie would follow him. Frankie owed him his life. Will was the one to convince Frankie to hang it up. The one putting a half dead Frankie in cold showers and pumping his fucking stomach on no sleep. Will was the one Leah called when Frankie got too close to the edge. His brother, Luna’s godfather.

“I said if Redfly’s in, I’m in.”

Fuck! Fucking Tom. Frankie takes his hat off, adjusts his hair. I fucking hate Tom. —————

“Tom is not in our wedding,” Leah glared down the kitchen island at Frankie, arguing again about the goddamn wedding party. She didn’t even want it anymore. Had thrown her hands up, on more than one occasion, and begged to just run down to the courthouse.

And it all circled back to Tom fucking Davis.

“We served together for ten years, Leah! It’s a bit fucked up to have the rest of the boys up there in tuxes, Tess as our flower girl and Tom is,” he flails his hands out, “Three rows back with that one coworker who brings you coffee every Friday.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let Tom sit that close to the altar, Francisco Morales. And next to Alexa? She is my angel and Tom Davis will be nowhere near her, do you understand me?”

“Then marry Alexa, babe!”

Leah put her hands on her hips, “Bitch, I might.”

He breaks and laughs, lifting his hat to rub at his forehead, “What do you want me to tell him then? You have plenty of friends who could be a fourth bridesmaid.”

“How about you drop Benny too?” She shrugs, “Just keep Will and Santi and I’ll keep my sisters. Two and two.”

He throws the hat on the counter, “YOU LOVE BENNY!”

“You're right, baby,” she laughs, eyes bright. A challenge on the tip of her tongue. "Drop Santi.”

He charges after her, ready for her words, and chases her through the house. Their house. Still nowhere near unpacked after a month and he’s cursing the unintended obstacle course he’s laid out for himself. She’s making quick work of it but, fuck, he’s out of shape.

He runs up the stairs, back screaming with every step as he gains on her. It helps his legs are much longer than hers.

She makes it to the bedroom, spinning to close the door but he grabs her before she can, pinning her down with all his weight. She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and almost never made the bed, preferring to fall right into the softness without much work.

He ran his hand down her body, drumming his fingers in a soft rhythm until he reached her thigh, hitching it over his hip.

Her heart was still racing from the chase but Frankie felt it tick upwards as he placed his lips on her neck.

“Francisco,” she whined, “we can’t do this right now. We have to do grown up things.”

He smiles into the soft skin, “this is grown up things.”

“You know what I mean.”

He looks up at her, “hmm…” He’s got her right where he wants her, none the wiser as he reaches down to her knee and—

“Frankie, what are you doing?” Her voice comes out an octave higher, panic in her eyes pleading with him not to when the corner of his mouth crooks upwards and—

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh at the bend of her knee, smile blown wide as she screams out like a hyena.

“Stop! Stop!” She laughs through labored breaths, “baby, it was just a joke.”

“You're not funny,” he lulls with a kiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” her eyes filled with hurt and conviction, “I'm hilarious so… ya know, jot that down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But Tom fucking Davis is not in our wedding or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will call the whole goddamn thing off. It is my day and I’m not having his big Irish head in my wedding photos for the rest of my life.”

He laughs again, “Fine. But what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate anybody, baby, I don’t think you’ve got that in your heart. Be serious with me, please. What do I tell him?”

“Tell him,” she thinks for a second, because she absolutely does have the capacity for hate in her heart, “that I can’t choose amongst my friends for a fourth bridesmaid and so I just want to keep the party small with only my sisters.”

He seems satisfied by that, nodding his head. “But I am keeping Santi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But…”

Her stare is like daggers, “I’m not talking about Tom anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” he’s laughing, his life is all laughter now. “I just still think we should set Pope up with Kristyn.”

She’s pushing out from under him, sitting up for the higher ground. Her finger is in his face, her words are measured, “If Santiago Garcia even so much as looks at my little sister, I will do what so many have tried and failed to do before.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“I will kill him.”

The whole bed is shaking with his laughter now, “You're right, baby, you’re hilarious.” —————

Will’s in front of them now, hands on his knees, “What's the verdict?”

Tom looks at Frankie, then to Will, “I'm in for the recce if you guys are.”

The world goes quiet, replaced by a high pitched ringing in Frankie’s ear as he downs the world’s shittiest beer.

Fuck.

“Fish?” Santiago’s voice cuts clear through, always had.

Frankie lowers the plastic cup, “When is it?”

“We leave Thursday.”

Fuck.

Again, he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, staring off into the ring. Staring off at nothing and everything.

“Okay.”

This could change his family’s life forever.

Fuck.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @notcookiebelle | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​

[bananapie99]

Welcome Home

Part IV of my new Home series

Part I here

Part II here

Part III here

Inspired by Welcome Home from Bandstand the musical

Welcome home my dear, welcome home my sweet. Welcome home my hero, welcome home my heart.  

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Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers (brother) x Reader

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Now our wait has ended, our years of yearning, and I’m at my doorway, my love returning...

The day had finally come. The longest week of your life had passed, and Bucky was almost home. This morning you spent twice the time you normally do getting ready, wanting to look perfect for your reunion. It had been nearly two years since you had felt Bucky, smelled Bucky. 

It came time to head to his family’s home. A few days prior you all decided to meet there, that way Bucky could see you all at once and not have to decide who to see first. Sitting, waiting, became an agonizing task. You twisted the ring around your ring finger, unable to sit still.

Any minute now.

A watched pot never boils, but that did not stop you from looking at the clock every 5 seconds. Your head started spinning with possibilities. What if there was an accident on the way back? Or maybe the war made him realize he wanted something different for his life. He could walk right past you, or ask for the ring back.

Stop it (y/n). You scolded yourself for even thinking that way. He would not have written all those letters if he was not in love with you.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

You jumped up, standing straight, still fiddling with your ring.

Bucky’s father took a few steps towards the door and opened it up.

“Hey dad.”

His voice. Oh that sweet voice had never sounded so beautiful. Your vision started to blur as you attempted to fight back the tears.

His dad opened the door wider, letting Bucky inside.

Immediately his eyes found yours and you could no longer fight back the tears. You let out a sob and opened your arms as he dropped his bag and ran across the living room to reach you. Suddenly your feet were off the ground, his arms locked around your waist as he spun you in a quick circle. He set you back down, but did not let go. One of his hands left your waist, finding its home under your chin, pulling your eyes up to meet his. Oh those eyes. You could drown in the turbulent ocean of those orbs. You opened your mouth to speak, but before any words could come out his lips covered yours. The kiss was desperate and heavy, one that you would never share in public given any other circumstance. Your ears burned, knowing his family and your brother were watching, but at the same time, you did not care. Bucky was here. Bucky was home.

He released your mouth, pulling you flush against his chest. He rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Welcome home James,” you finally let out just above a whisper. Your hand reached up to touch his neck and was met by the cool metal chain of his dog tags. You wove your fingers around the chain, not wanting to let go of his identification, regardless of how morbid the concept of the tags were.

Rebecca came over and rested a hand on his shoulder. He hesitated a moment, not wanting to let go of you. You gave him a squeeze, then loosened your hold on him to signal it was okay. He needed to finish his hellos. 

As he released you, he turned towards his sister, pulling her in to a similar hug and kissing her cheek. By now his mother was a mess in her tears, holding onto her husband.

Bucky released Rebecca and turned to his mother, opening his arms.

“I missed ya ma.”

She practically threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. He held her close, gently swaying side to side, trying to soothe her cries.

It took her a while to calm back down, but who could blame her? Even with all the letters home, his time away was unbearable. None of you would say it out loud, but every day you all waited for that telegram to arrive, delivering the impossible news. But now here he was, home, safe.

Finally, he let go of his mom and hugged Steve. As you watched the two of them, something seemed off. What you were seeing before you did not look right. You had been so excited to see Bucky when he got home that you realized you had not really seen him.

His arm.

His left arm is not his arm.

You walked over to them and grabbed what should have been his left arm, and gasped when you were met with wood. You pushed the sleeve up on his jacket to reveal the rest of the wooden limb. You stumbled back a step before he reached out to catch you.

“Bucky... what happened?”

You felt the tears starting to come again.

“(Y/n), it’s okay, I’m okay,” he cooed, trying to calm you down. “Remember the situation I wrote you about? But it’s not a big deal Cookie, I’m okay I promise.”

Your heart splintered looking at the prosthetic. The situation he wrote about talked about removing a bullet, not removing an arm. The war had already taken enough, why his arm too?

He used his flesh hand to wipe at the tears painting your cheeks and kissed you again, gently this time.

Mentally you scolded yourself for the second time today. Who were you to cry? Bucky is the one who was shipped off to war and lost an arm, along with who knows what or who else. But Bucky did not seem to mind. He met your eyes with a soft smile before pulling you back into his chest. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity in silence, Steve and his family migrating towards the kitchen to you give you two some time. Neither of you wanted to break the moment, but Bucky finally spoke.

“So when is the wedding? When do you officially become Mrs. James Barnes?”

Hearing him say those words made you dizzy. Luckily Bucky had you so tight to his chest you did not have to worry about falling.

Finally you found your voice. “Just say the words, Sergeant.”

He let out a laugh that made his chest vibrate against you. You forgot how magical his laugh sounded.

“How about now?”

Wedding plans be damned, you were ready. All you needed was Bucky by your side. 

“Tell your family and call the pastor, I need thirty minutes,” you said before stretching up to kiss his jawline. Quickly you walked into the kitchen, grabbed Rebecca, and drug her out of their house. You took off running towards your apartment, Rebecca sprinting to catch up.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?? Why are we running?”

You grinned. “The wedding. It’s happening today!”

Rebecca squealed and picked up her pace.

At your and Steve’s apartment, you and Rebecca frantically gathered what you needed. Your and Rebecca’s dresses were hanging nicely in your closet, shoes tucked underneath them. Since you had left so quickly you were unsure if Steve was coming back here or not, so you decided to grab his suit and shoes as well. 

In the drawer to your vanity you saw the small velvet box and put that into your purse. Last week Steve gave it to you as a gift, your parents’ wedding rings inside. He told you he wanted you and Bucky to have them. You cried when he gave them to you, so touched by the gesture and sacrifice he was making for himself by giving the rings to you.

“They would want you to have them, (y/n). I want you to have them. Promise.”

At that moment, the door to your apartment opened and you heard Steve calling out for you. 

“In here,” you called out from your bedroom.

You heard him enter and told him his suit was draped over the couch.

He reached out and took your arm in his hand.

(Y/n), stop moving for a second. Look at me.”

You stopped what you were doing and met his eyes.

“There’s no need to rush the wedding today, Bucky does not mind waiting. He wants you to have the day you dreamed of, not something you rushed to just because he is home. He’s home, and he is not going anywhere. Today is a lot to take in on its own...him being back, his arm...”

You winced at the mention of his arm. To be honest, you had forgotten about that already and hearing the words was a bit of a shock. But you were touched by the sentiment, knowing it was true and knowing Bucky sent Steve over here to tell you that.

“I know, Steve. But this is my dream wedding. I do not care about the flowers or the decorations really, today is not about the looks or the party. I just want to marry him. I just want him. I want to say those words and know that he is mine forever. I want the declaration and the ceremony. I want the vows. As long as I have you walking me down the aisle and Bucky waiting for me at the end, it will be my dream wedding.”

Steve was satisfied by your answer and kissed your forehead, before grabbing his suit off the couch and rushing to the church to meet Bucky.

What else did you need?

The letter.

The letter that promised you he was alright after radio silence. You wanted that letter in the church with you, along with his telegram.

I’m coming home.

Now he was home. In his arms you had your home back as well.

You put those into your purse next to the ring box.

Rebecca and you went over your mental list one more time just to make sure you had not missed something big, then took off for the church. 

Inside, Rebecca and you found a room to store everything and get dressed. She helped you close up your dress and adjust your hairstyle, adding in your mother’s clip and her mother’s veil. 

You gave Rebecca the ring box and the letters. Where you wanted the letters, you did not know. But they needed to be in the church.

Rebecca put on her dress and stepped out to check if Steve, Bucky and the pastor were ready. 

A few minutes later she peeked her head back in the room.

“They are all ready (y/n). Are you?”

You took a shaky breath, already overwhelmed by your emotions. You felt tears start for the hundredth time that day, but fought to keep them back. Unable to speak without the tears falling, you just nodded yes. Rebecca held her hand out to you and you took it in your own, following her towards the altar. 

Bucky’s parents were seated in the first row of pews. Rebecca kissed your cheek and told you “see you down there,” before rushing towards the end of the aisle where her brother stood. When your eyes saw Bucky standing down there you could no longer hold the tears in, a single sob escaping your throat.

Immediately Bucky looked up, eyes locking on you. He smiled as his own tears started to fall.

Steve linked his arm with yours and gently nudged your shoulder.

“You ready (y/n?)”

Absolutely.

The two of you started your walk down the aisle at a normal pace, but as you got closer you could not wait any longer and started to pick up speed. Bucky let out a laugh at your eagerness.

Finally at the end of the aisle, Steve kissed your cheek before placing your hand into Bucky’s.

For a moment you and Bucky just stood there, holding each other’s hands and looking into one another’s eyes. You both grinned.

The pastor cleared his throat and began talking.

If you were being honest, most of the ceremony was a blur. But then you heard it.

“Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take (y/f/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, ‘til death do you part?”

“I do.” He slid your mother’s old wedding band onto your finger. The perfect size.

More tears.

“Do you, (y/f/n), tale James Buchanan Barnes to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, ‘til death do you part?”

The words were caught in your throat and you nodded, trying to force them out. With a little sob you finally got out “I do.” You went to slide the ring onto his finger, but were met with wood. 

He leaned in towards you to whisper, “I’ll wear it on my right hand, babydoll. I want to feel the ring.”

Even more tears. 

You slid the ring on his right hand and were amazed at how perfectly it had fit him.

Meant to be.

The pastor spoke again. “You may now kiss the bride.”

He moved closer to you, wooden arm finding its place around your waist, as his flesh hand cupped your face. He whispered “forever and always,” before leaning down the rest of the way to give you a kiss that made your head spin.

It really happened. You and Bucky were married. He was your husband. You were his wife. This had to be a dream. But this time, it was not. You were completely his and he was completely yours.

Bucky slid his arm around your waist and led you back down the aisle, family close behind.

The rest of the day you two could not keep your hands to yourself. If you were standing, his arm was around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, If you were sitting, your head was resting on his shoulder, hands and arms tangled together. He kissed you every chance he got; on your cheek, forehead, shoulder, lips. He was not picky.

As the evening went on and the alcohol continued to flow, he became even more handsy, if that was possible. His hand found home on your leg, occasionally teasing the hem of your skirt, Feeling his mother’s eyes on you two you kept pushing his hand away, but he was either oblivious or didn’t care. You certainly didn’t mind, but you did not want or need those looks. Even as a married woman you wanted to be respectable, and it was too early on in your marriage to suddenly end up on his mother’s bad side.

Desperate for conversation you blurt out the first question you could think of. 

“Where are we staying tonight Buck?”

In the excitement and commotion of the day, Bucky and you had never stopped to consider what your married life living situation would be. 

“You can stay here,” his mother chimed in.

“No!” The declination came from Bucky and you simultaneously,

Realizing the harshness of your answer, you followed up with “thank you Mrs. Barnes, that is very sweet of you. I just would not want to impose.”

Before she could respond, Steve came to the rescue,

“Take the apartment for a couple days, (y/n). Would it be alright if I borrowed Buck’s room here for a couple days Mrs. Barnes?”

It was not the arrangement she was hoping for, but his mother agreed.

Bucky pulled you closer into his side and his lips met your ears.

“Tomorrow we’ll start lookin’ for our home Cookie.” 

You nodded in agreement. You liked the sound of that, our home.

“But for now I think it is time we get going.” He stood and extended his right hand to you. “Ready to head home, Mrs. Barnes?”

Your cheeks burned and your head spun at his words. That was going to take some getting used to. Taking his hand, you stood. 

He disappeared to his room for a moment to grab his bag he had packed earlier. The two of you said your goodbyes, then started the little walk towards your apartment. At the door you pulled out your keys and unlocked the apartment, pushing the door open. You took a step forward to enter but Bucky stopped you. He scooped you up into his arms, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

“It’s tradition, babydoll. Can’t have my brand new bride walking herself into our home.” He winked at you and walked inside. He kicked the door shut behind him and turned around for you to lock the door, not ready to set you down just yet.

Bucky kept walking, holding you in his arms, straight back to your bedroom, where he finally set you down on the bed. He held himself above you, eyes locked on your own. Slowly, he moved his head closer, leaning in until his lips met yours, tongue gently finding its way to yours.

Your heart started racing in anticipation of the evening. It was well known that Bucky had...experience with girls. That did not bother you. What made you anxious was the fact that you had none. Of course you were not completely clueless, you had the knowledge, but that was all you had. Bucky knew this though. The night before he left for the war you spoke about it, and he had told you “you’re worth waiting for, (y/n).” 

As nervous as you were, you knew there was nothing to worry about with Bucky. He loved you and you loved him. All he wanted now that he was home was to keep you safe.

You stretched your head up and kissed Bucky. “Welcome home, my husband.”

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Requests open!

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Taglist: @moteldwelling @belladonnabarnes @emmabarnes @ritz-hell-hotel

[heartsofbeskar]

from the ashes

chapter six | read on AO3

din djarin x oc

WARNINGS: violence, swearing

WORDS: 3.2K

EXCERPT: He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PREV | NEXT

Ten couldn’t think of a better sound than the Ursa’s engines finally running again. Decidedly less strained than before, she thought. Though that may have just been wishful thinking.

They’d been sequestered on the asteroid for the better part of two standard weeks. The time they’d lost was valuable, but nothing compared to the time they’d lose if the Ursa bailed on them mid-flight.

On the surface, spending time with the Mandalorian was not too much different than spending time alone. He barely spoke unless he was spoken to, and moved around like a ghost, despite the heavy armour. But there was something … imposing about the man. Not threatening, but Ten could feel his presence in a room, sometimes even feel his eyes on her. It wholly unsettled her— not that she’d let him know that.

Much — well actually all — of their conversation in the recent days had centered around where the hell to go next. It was obvious an Imperial conspirator had inside knowledge of the job and that Ten and Mando were the ones working it. They had a list of contacts from Greef Karga who may have information; to seek out those contacts now would surely be suicide, for everyone involved.

“You feel sure about Ronhar Kraz?” Ten asked. The armoured man sat to her right nodded slowly. Kraz was a businessman who specialized in textiles and linen trade between the core and the Outer Rim. Seemingly benign, but he used those same textiles and linen to smuggle weapons during the days of the Empire. For both sides.

“It feels too obvious,” she mused. “Former weapons smuggler turned Imperial double agent. Why even attach your name onto this if so many people in the Outer Rim know you worked with the Empire?”

“You’re assuming a level of intelligence and foresight I don’t often attribute to Imps,” he said.

“That’s the mindset that gets you fucked over eventually,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Is that what happened to you?”

Ten turned her head sharply, glaring at him. “You should watch that metal mouth or I’ll find something that will bend beskar.”

She heard a short breathy noise she’d come to known as a laugh processed through his modulator.

They’d almost passed through the outer boundary of the asteroid field, so she focused on steering through the last of the rocks. An itch had settled under her skin in the past few days, an urge to go, go, go, escape the confines of this belt they’d found themselves unexpectedly marooned within. As much as she still dreaded getting tangled up in Empire business, she felt that coursing of adrenaline in her veins that had been escaping her for many months now. That thrill of her life being put on the line of her own volition.

That adrenaline spiked again as they were fired on.

—

“Shit!” Ten cursed, the ship veering sharply upon impact. Din reacted on instinct, seat spinning towards the weapons controls he’d made a point of committing to memory. “They must have followed our ion trail to the edge of the belt. Have the fuckers just been waiting here the whole time?”

Another hit struck them, almost sending Din flying into the viewport. As he lurched, his gaze locked on the ships in front of them, before Ten steered them quickly away in an evasive maneuver. The ships pursued. He wasn’t surprised he recognized the ships, but he was surprised that—

“Those are New Republic ships. That’ll be why we weren’t vapourized on sight.” He paused as he attempted to target lock the ships still following close behind. There were too many asteroids lingering in the belt’s gravitational pull for them to jump to hyperspace. He needed to buy time. “Are you wanted?”

Ten didn’t look at him as she pushed their speed, but he could somehow feel her rolling her eyes at him. “No, I’m not an idiot. Even if I was, the Ursa’s totally off register, there’s no way—”

“Torpedo approaching lower left engine exhaust,” he interrupted. Cursing again, she took them as far right as possible — and right towards a large asteroid. Din braced, but she slowed their speed enough to whip them quickly around its circumference. He had to admit she was an impressive pilot.

“Are you wanted?”

“...Yes.”

“Now why am I not surprised by—”

She was cut off by the incoming communication alarm. They exchanged glances before Ten reached forward and set off the acceptance switch.

“Unidentified vessel,” came the drone of a New Republic officer. “Cut your engines immediately and prepare for boarding.”

“And why the hell should we do that?” Ten snapped, taking them through a narrow gap between asteroids. Din rolled his eyes now beneath the helmet.

“You are wanted for the murder of Jula Lars. Cut your engines immediately and prepare to be taken into custody. Failure to comply can result in—”

Ten slammed her hand down on the controls and cut off the channel. Din noticed her other hand tightening on the steering gears, knuckles going white. The scars he knew to be there were barely visible.

“Those fuckers … do you have a target lock on the ships? I’m going to blast them from the fucking sky,” she snapped.

As lightly as he dared, Din placed a hand on her arm that was closest to him. “They’re only doing their job. Obviously the Imps put them on our tail. No one else knew we were there.”

“Oh and you’re now the sudden pacifist?” she turned her head to glare at him. It felt like ice began flowing through his veins.

“We don’t need to help create more victims to the Empire,” he said lowly. Something flashed in her eyes. She kept eye contact with him for as long as she dared before turning forward to continue steering.

“Fine,” was all she said. A pause. More shots volleying around them, missing the ship as it weaved. “Then we need to go to hyperspace. Now.”

“There’s still too many asteroids we could—”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, Mandalorian,” she said, and she was already engaging, then ramping their speed and then— rocks flew past them as superliminal speeds as they were catapulted into hyperspace. Din held his breath the entire time, certain they were headed straight for a rock which, at these speeds, would vapourize them for sure.

He let it go when he realized they were clear. Looking beside him, he saw Ten staring at him, her scarred eyebrow raised. “I told you to trust me.”

He scoffed, still feeling on edge. “Set the course for Leotis IV.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

—

Ten landed the Ursa as discreetly as she could, a few kilometres out from the Kraz estate. Thankfully it didn’t seem the New Republic had any insight on where they were going, only where they had been. But there was no guessing how long that would last.

Mando was in the hold, already securing his blaster into his belt. She recognized a couple other models and … something that didn’t look like a blaster at all. Before she could get a longer look his cloak fell over it.

“Kraz’s estate only has minimum security in place. Security cameras, only two from the back, no motion sensors,” she said, opening up the weapons compartment.

“How do you know all this?” Mando asked, entering her field of view. She looked up from where she was sheathing throwing knives. She shrugged at him.

“You hunt people, I hunt information. It’s my business to know my way around prominent figure’s properties.” Reaching up, Ten finally grabbed her blaster from the top shelf it sat on. She knew she could very likely do this without it, but it would probably appease Mando.

“If he is working with the Empire, he may have increased his security since your latest information,” he noted. She nodded as she hung her own cloak around her shoulders.

“At least then it would make for a challenge,” she said, nodding her head towards the door.

They closed the distance from the Ursa on foot so as not to be seen by anyone on the grounds. The tree cover was just enough to hide it from view overhead. Mando seemed to want to take the walk in their usual state of silence, and Ten didn’t complain.

As they walked, Ten admired the foliage that seemed to grow at mostly knee height on this planet. It bloomed undisturbed in the gaps left by the trees, enjoying the unrestricted sunlight. The rays seemed to bounce off the petals which appeared in every colour.

It made her think of Yaim. The trees there had been much denser, and wider. But the air seemed to vibrate in the same way, the wind so delicate Ten could almost close her eyes and imagine it was tender fingers on her cheek.

She reached out, as she would always do when she was a girl, and felt that unwavering presence, its weight bearing down on her bones and her soul alike. But … less heavy than usual, which surprised her.

Finally, they reached the wall which indicated the edge of the property, It wasn’t high, maybe four or five metres by Ten’s estimation. The surface was uneven, and she grabbed a hold of the texture, testing it.

“This should work. If we can scale to the—” She was cut off by a sharp whizzing noise beside her. As she examined the grappling hook connected to his vambrace, she was absolutely sure he was smirking beneath the helmet. “Or we could do it that way.”

He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

“Hold on tight,” was all he said, and then they were rapidly ascending up, up, past the rough stones in the wall, until Mando swung them onto the top, which was thankfully flat. “You can let go now.”

“Right,” she breathed. Shaking her head, she turned towards the building now filling their view. As she’d planned, the route to the wall had taken them close to the back corner of the property. If her information was current, Kraz only had cameras facing his back and front entrances. “You’ve got a scope on that pulse rifle, right? Can you see the cameras on the back wall?”

Swinging the rifle around to rest on his shoulder, he wordlessly aimed at the building. Ten studied his stance from the corner of her eye. His feet were heavy, planted shoulder width apart. He didn’t sway as the wind picked up, a solid beskar statue in the foreign landscape.

Suddenly he fired once, then twice. Ten flinched at the unexpected noise. Finally, he spoke. “The cameras are taken care of.”

“A little warning next time?” Before he could respond, she flung herself from the wall. She braced herself on her hands as she landed, Mando dropping beside her a moment later. She held up a hand.

After a few beats of silence, she nodded at him. “Seems like they haven’t upgraded security after all,” she noted, moving towards the back entrance. As they got closer, she saw that the cameras were indeed demolished by the shots.

“Don’t suppose you know the interior blueprints as well?” Mando asked at her left shoulder.

“No,” she shook her head. “Those are usually harder to get a hold of. But I have been hired by many men like Kraz. They like to keep their personal offices in the back of buildings, it makes them feel safer for some reason. See that window?”

She gestured directly above them, where the largest window on the back facade sat. It was also the only window inset with what appeared to be rare minerals.

“I agree,” Mando said before she could finish. “That’s a good place to start. After you.”

Ten examined the back entrance, gliding her hand along the smooth edges of the metal. The locking mechanism blinked orange gently, and she recognized an optical scanner. But beneath that … a keyboard override, hidden under an unlocked panel. Perfect.

Taking one of her daggers from her belt, she was able to tear off the cover of the keypad box with her hands. Ten held the dagger up. It was one of her favourites. The handle was nondescript, simple, fitted perfectly to her grip. Its blade was stronger than any other she owned, and she strongly suspected it had been mixed with beskar, though she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she would ask the Mandalorian.

She pried under the edge of the keypad, battling metal on metal, leveraging with all her strength. Finally, as she expected, her metal won, and the bottom edge of the keypad popped off with a satisfying crack. She cut every wire she found lying underneath, one by one until—

The door slid open with a whirr as the orange light went dark.

“Would’ve been faster to shoot it open,” said Mando.

“And set off every alarm they have in this place.” She strode past him into the building. The cement walls echoed her footsteps, but there was no other sound bouncing off them. The overhead lights flickered slowly.

The hallway branched into a T shortly ahead of them, and her and Mando took to a side of the wall. Nodding, they inched over the corner, blasters drawn. Ten found a long corridor on her side, ending in a window. There were no doors. She spoke first, in a low tone.

“All clear here.”

“Here too.”

Relaxing marginally, she turned. The other direction appeared much the same, with another doorless hallway. Ten shrugged.

“Your choice is as good as mine.”

Mando wordlessly started down the hall to the right. She followed, pulling her hood over her head as she did. She ran her hand lightly along the wall. It was cold to the touch. She tightened her grip on her blaster.

A stairway emerged at the end of the hallway, and they followed silently. The next level was similar to the first, though featured more hallways going deeper into the building and an occasional linen draped on the wall. Finally, they came to a wide door, inlaid with the same mineral as the exterior window.

It was empty inside. A large wooden desk occupied much of the room, facing towards the ornate window. The sunlight streamed in freely, casting multicoloured shapes over the room. It reflected off Mando’s beskar as he approached the computer terminal on the desk.

“The communications log should give us enough information on whether he’s working with the Empire.” He called up a projected screen, gloved fingers running over the controls. “Should be … here. Most people don’t even restrict access. We can download it to look at on the ship.”

Ten nodded. She moved towards the window. Closer to it, she could see the small bubbles enclosed in the inlays. It felt rough. She wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to touch today, but it felt as if a live wire had been inserted beneath her skin, the smallest of currents lighting her nerves.

“Done,” came Mando’s modulated tone, pulling her attention. “We should go—”

Before he could finish, the latch clicked in the door. They both watched, unable to do anything, as the handle turned and the door opened fully.

A human man stood there, looking down at his holopad at first. Mando raised his blaster slowly. By the time the man looked up, it was directly in front of his face, and his eyes widened as he took the two of them in.

“W-who the hell are you?” he asked shakily. “You shouldn’t be in here, I …”

“We’re going to walk out of here,” Mando said calmly. “There’s no reason to panic. You’re going to stay in this office for five minutes, and then go about your day. Got it?”

The man’s eyes darted rapidly back and forth between them. Ten tried to soften her eyes, to urge him to listen. She wasn’t sure it worked.

Faster than either of them could react, he screamed out, tripping backwards over himself out of the office. Mando fired down into his leg and he collapsed, screaming more, but it was too late, the damage had been done.

As they sprinted out and away from the office, Ten could already hear the sound of boots echoing off the walls. They’d almost reached the stairs when a group of armed security burst out of a hallway in front of them. It was six on two and damn if Ten didn’t like those odds.

Blaster fire broke out almost immediately. Just as quickly, Ten lost track of Mando in the shuffle, but it didn’t matter.

She shot at the two men in front of her, electing for quantity over quality in her aim. She managed to hit one somewhere in the torso and he crumpled to the ground. After a number of other shots she hit the next man in the shoulder, which worked to her advantage. He dropped his blaster with a shout, but stayed on his feet.

Ten pulled two of the small knives from her belt. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she aimed before whipping it forehead. It spun in the air before hitting its mark, buried inside the man’s neck. He sputtered as he fell to his knees, then onto his face.

Spinning around, she saw Mando taking down a fifth officer behind her, two others already on the ground. She counted quickly.

“Where’s the sixth one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mando grunted, dropping the officer to the ground. He raced toward the stairs and she followed.

It appeared they were mostly in the clear, the branch off to the door just ahead of them. Ten led ahead, turning the corner first.

She was met with a blaster pressed to her forehead. It was the sixth officer, her hands shaking as she pressed the barrel harder into the skin.

Ten couldn’t even consciously control her response. It didn’t matter that Mando stood just behind her.

Her hand reached up in front of her, gripping seemingly around nothing, pushing forward. She pulled on the invisible field which was always with her, calling on it. Slowly the barrel of the blaster moved away and so too did the officer, beginning to cough and sputter as her windpipe closed. Ten panted, squeezing tighter and higher, and now the officer was a good three metres in front of her, feet lifting off the ground, eyes rolling into her head. With a grunt, she quickly jerked her arm to the side, sending the officer flying into the wall. The crumpled figure on the ground didn’t move.

“You just …” came Mando’s voice behind her. She turned to look back at him. “You’re a Jedi.”

“We don’t have time for this but let’s get one thing straight. I am not a Jedi.”

[starker-fluff]

Reboot: Part One

Peter opened his eyes, sighing as he stared across the horizon. As a child he had done everything he could to stop his parents getting on that damn plan but they didn’t listen. Remembers how much he screamed for them and he remembered how useless he felt when they left and their fates were sealed. He had moved on, hoping to save Uncle Ben now. Peter remembers how he actually got himself purposely but so he could protect his uncle. He tried so hard to save Uncle Ben but everything his tried was worthless as Peter still had to attend his funeral. Peter groaned, rubbing his face with anguish trying to get rid of those thoughts from his head. Getting to his feet he jumped off the roof, swinging his way back home.

Peter walked along the street to the rhythm of his music that was drumming in his ears. He stopped short when he saw a fancy car in his driveway, a smile brimming on his face as he took off sprinting to the elevator. Feverishly bouncing on his toes as he waited for the elevator to stop at his floor before he full on sprinted to his apartment door. He had to pretend. He had to keep his cool. Peter psyched himself up, bouncing around in a little circle before he turned up his music and casually walked into the home.

“Hey Aunt May! Oh you made cookies,” He snagged one, “By the way did you see that awesome car outsi-“ Peter’s got caught as he saw Tony staring up at him with that signature smile. He wasn’t even listening to his words anymore, all he could focus on was how alive Tony looked. He looked so healthy and so happy. God, how could he tell him his world about was about to fall apart.

“Peter?” Tony was standing, looking down at him. “Talk in private?” Peter quickly nodded and scuttled to his bedroom, shutting the door behind Tony. When he turned around he saw the images of himself as Spiderman flipping across the holoscreen projected from Tony’s watch.

“Before you say anything. Yes, it’s me. And yes I want to help you.” Peter confessed immediately to Mr Stark’s shock.

“How did you know I was going to ask you?” Tony looked impressed. The kid was really special.

“...Let’s just call it intuition.” Peter smiled. He could save Tony. He could do this. He could save himself the heart break of losing Tony.

—————Time Skippo—————

Peter pulled the shield from Steve’s arm as he landed on the truck, waving to everyone. He knew what was coming next but he couldn’t react before because then they would get suspicious. Just as Steve gave the command he prepared himself, dropping onto his back as the ant man guy did the same thing as last time. As everyone geared up he flipped off the truck, landing beside Tony. Peter felt the pull to hold his hand but couldn’t.. they weren’t like that yet. Then the running began.

~~

Next time he had a minute to think he was chasing Bucky and Sam through the terminal. He was letting his muscle memory work, déjà vu clouding his mind as he realised he was repeating exactly the same words he had before. THE FLYING BOT. He heard the sound of the little bird bot and decided it was the perfect thing to quickly get outside.

~~

“Mr Stark said you’d say that... and I say fuck you.” Peter seethed. He had hatred for Steve, everything that this man was about to do. Everything that this man did to Tony!! He left him in that place alone. He let him wither away and die. He belittled him and fuck! Peter was going to enjoy this! He let himself be pulled forward by the webbed up Steve but before the Captain could hit him the kid landed a powerful kick that sent Steve rolling across the floor. He sneered at the groaning Captian before he heard the struggles of Tony and Rhodey. Leaping up onto the terminal just as Ant-Man supersized.

“Ok. I got this.” Peter psyched himself up.

“Don’t panic. It’s just me!” Peter called out as he flung a web out onto Rhodey, using him to get up onto the big man’s face.

“Hey big guy. I think it’s time you took a nap.” He said as he landed directly on the guy’s eye. Jumping around for a bit before remembering what he had done.

“THE OLD STAR WARS MOVIE. Empire strikes back? You guys get the head! I’ve got the legs.” Peter quickly flipped off his face, using the momentum to help him wrap the giant’s legs up with his webbing. Around the ankles then around the thigh. The signal for the punch came through, jogging Peter’s mind. He quickly let go of the web he was holding, narrowly avoiding the giant hand that swung around. He skidded along the concrete, landing in a non-graceful roll but it was much better then last time. Hearing the sound of thrusters and an arm on his shoulder he new what was coming next.

“Kid. You’re done!” Tony said sternly just as one of the SHIELD planes took off overhead, speeding into the sky. Tony took off after it, Rhodey following suit and Sam hot on their heels. Peter felt his stomach drop as his heart sunk. He was up to his feet in a second screaming to not fire but Vision couldn’t hear him. The beam struck the chest of Rhodey’s suit and he was falling fast and out of control.

“NO!” Peter sprinted across the tarmac, heart beating in his ears.

“SOMEONE THROW ME.” A red glow wrapped around his body and then suddenly he was rocketting up, heading directly for Rhodey.

“MR STARK TURN OFF THE BABY MONITOR PROTOCOL!” Peter screamed. He needed access to those wings.

“What!?” Tony said in absolute confusion and anger and desperation.

“TURN IT OFF.” The next thing Peter heard was Karen then alerting him that the protocol had been removed. Opening his arms and legs the Webbing between his limbs and body fanned out allowing him to manoeuvre into a position directly above Rhodey.

“I got you. I won’t let this happen.” Peter said in a strangely calm voice, speaking mainly to himself. Once within range he flung a web out to Rhodey, connecting himself to the falling man, chest to chest by the line of web. He pulled himself down to Rhodey, doing his best to stabilise the both of them as he went but it wasn’t going too well. Peter received a kicked to the ribs and a slap in the head from the hunk of falling metal. He binded himself to the pummeting man before he deployed the parachute. Peter and Rhodey still crashed into the earth but nothing was broken... Rhodey was in one piece.

“Kid...” Was all Rhodey managed to say from where they sat in the heap on the ground. Peter pulled off the parachute and disintegrated the webs before moving away, standing to his feet to make room for Tony who dropped down and instantly checked on Rhodey who had sustained a few minor injuries. Peter felt the world spin as he felt a blooming pain come from his side... this was different. He flopped onto his back staring up at the sky that was slowly growing darker as his chest roared in pain. He felt someone lift his head up and call out his name but his head just hurt so much and his chest felt like it was going to explode. He could hear someone apologising before two repulsion blasts sounded as the world faded into a blackness. This was certainly a change.

—————Timey Wimey Stuff—————

Peter woke up with the blatant smell of sterilised everything clinging to every surface in the room. Sitting up he groaned, his head ringing as his side sung with pain. Checking under his shirt he found bandages around his chest.. God what did he do to himself. The sound of plane getting ready to go hit his ears like a freight train. MR STARK!! Peter ripped the IV out of his arm, grimacing at the sting of pain as he slid out the door. He rushed out of the hospital ward to see Mr Stark’s plane taking off.

“No no no no.” He knew what was about to happen. Peter couldn’t let this happen. As he stood there he saw SHIELD agents walking across the corridor. Taking a gamble he bolted up to the helipad above and thank god the SHEILD plane was there. He ran into the plane, frantically flipping switches as he tried to get the plane to start. Suddenly the plane launched into the air, sending Peter onto his back. Groaning with how stupid he is he ran to the controls before guiding the plane after Mr Stark.

“Hey Karen... am I doing this right?” Peter said nervously as he asked the voice in his mask. It hadn’t been removed due to them most likely wanting to preserve his idenity.

“Friday has given me his corordinates. Plug me into the plane peter and I can handle it from here.” Peter took off the mask, pulling a little cord out from the eye of the mask and plugging it into the plane.

“I’m.. I’m just gonna lay down.” Peter laid on the ground of the aircraft, holding his side with as he let himself drift off into a nap. Karen continues to follow Tony’s plane from a distance, by the time their much slower aircraft caught up to Tony he was just taking off from this big weird looking structure. Peter was now awake, siting in the cockpit watching the plane in the distance. He saw a flare fall out of the plane.

“Mr Stark seems to be going in two directions. Which would you like me to follow Peter..” Peter sighed.. of course it wasn’t a flare.

“The new course. That’s him in the suit...” Peter groveled in the seat of the plane. Why did he have to be going so slow! What if he was late? What if Tony still got hurt?! His hands were shaking as his thoughts swarmed in his head. He had been looking at his lap when he noticed the clothes he was wearing.... a hospital gown. Why hadn’t he grabbed clothes. He searched around the plane and found nothing but a plain t-shirt and a pair of black jeans and then.. he waited.

Finally he was there, running out of the plane he was hit by the cold, fighting passed the shaking as he spotted an open door. Running into the compound he followed the sounds of repulsive blasts and clanging metal. Peter smashed through the half open door just in time to see Steve about to bring his shield down onto Tony’s arch reactor.

“NO!” Both the men were taken off guard as Peter threw his full body weight against Steve, tackling him to the ground. Scrambling to his feet as he stood between Tony and Steve.

“This isn’t your fight kid.” Steve spoke to him, trying to dismiss him like last time.

“Mr Stark said you’d say that too and I’ll say it again... Fuck. You.” Peter snapped at the Captian towering over him. Steve stood bewildered that this was the kid that had handed his ass to him. This brief pause allowed Peter enough time to land a hard kick to Steve’s chest, sending him to the wall. The Captian got back to his feet, eyeing the defeated Tony who was struggling to get up.

“Don’t even think about it.” Peter warned as he stood over Tony’s body, lowering into the typical Spiderman pose. His eyes set in death glare as he watched Steve retreat out the door.

“Kid... Thank you but how did you even get here?” Tony asked the kid above him, almost in shock. Peter turned around, leaning down to help the man up to his feet.

“I followed you. Well more like Karen did. Friday was worried about you so she gave Karen you coordinates...” Tony just blinked in amazement as Peter answer his question. The kid then helped Tony out to the SHIELD plane.

“Did you steal a plane?” Tony laughed, as he stepped up the ramp before laying himself down on the floor.

“Uh... I borrowed it.” Peter shook as the adrenaline wore off. His body aching and shaking from the cold bitter air. The boy laid down beside Tony in a ball trying his best to warm himself up.

“Peter you could of gotten hurt... you can’t just rush into these things. You’ve already got broken ribs and a concussion.. Steve could of seriously hurt you. How did you even know what was going to happen?” Tony questioned the kid, going all mentor protection on him. Though Peter did notice how he was taking the armour off as well as his suit jacket that was underneath.

“I do? Oh. I thought I was just bruised. I guess that explains the pain. As for knowing it was more of a feeling. Yeah.. a feeling. What are you do- Oh.” Peter stopped short as Tony drapped his jacket over the shivering boy and pulled him in close. He couldn’t help but lean into the warmth radiating off the older man.

”Thank you, Mr Stark.” Peter said softly as he closed his eyes, putting his weight against him. The two laid together on the floor, silent and just enjoy the warmth of each other.

“Tony. Call me Tony.” Tony said after a long while. Peter smiled and felt his heart bloom. In this strange new world maybe Tony would love him in different way. It was a hope that Peter refused to let go of just yet.

[neonlights92]

CHANGE: Chapter IV

When the feud between EXO and Bangtan escalates beyond control Bangtan’s leader Kim Taehyung sees only one solution: a marriage of convenience between a member of Bangtan and a member of EXO. Park Jimin was not born into Bangtan but has slowly become an intrinsic part of Taehyung’s trusted inner circle.

And that is how Jimin finds himself married to you; EXO leader Xiumin’s little sister.  You’re not like any other woman he’s ever met before; fierce, angry and talented with a switchblade. When you first meet Jimin you’re left angry and disappointed.

Except slowly, things change. And despite yourself, you find your heart warming to the idea of falling in love.

A/N: ENJOY!

WARNINGS: Language and smut

Thanks to @aestheticallydestruction​ for the moodboard, as always!

You felt horrible. 

It had been three days since you’d let your mouth run away from you.  Three days since you’d done irreparable damage to your relationship with Jimin.  Three days since he’d even looked at you, let alone spoken to you. 

You tried to distract yourself. 

But it didn’t work.  Not really anyway.  

In fact, all you could think about was your husband.

All you could think about was the look on his face just after you’d hurt him. 

You were right.  Jimin was so different to any other man you’d ever met.  He was willing to be vulnerable and open. 

You wanted to let him in. 

Consequences be damned, you wanted to learn to love your husband. 

He was beautiful and complicated, and he was warm.  Something you’d never dealt with before. 

“Y/N.  You seem distracted.” 

Your brother had called you into his office earlier that day, and you watched him from across the deep mahogany of his desk.

“I’ve got things on my mind,” You tried to brush it off, “What is it you wanted, Xiumin?” 

His eyes narrowed.  Your brother was many things, and a good reader of people was one of them. 

“What is it?”  There was a beat, “Jimin?”

The truth was that this was all Xiumin’s fault to begin with. He’d somehow convinced you that to love Jimin was more dangerous than anything else you’d ever done. 

And maybe he was right.

You were emotionally crippled.  A life of hardships, and a brother as cold as your own taught you that love came at a very high price.  You didn’t understand the way your heart turned when you saw Jimin.  Or the way one smile from him could light up your entire day. 

But you knew that things were changing.  Your feelings towards your husband were no longer angry or bitter.  They were something else entirely. 

And it was time you started to accept that. 

“What is it you want, Xiumin?” 

Your brother took a deep breath.  His mouth twitched. 

“We need to talk about Bangtan.” 

Since your marriage to Jimin, your brother barely spoke business to you.  It had been months since either of you sat down to talk about the state of things.  And though you’d always been his right hand woman, you assumed that had to do with who you were married to. 

Things were different, now.

“What is it?” 

His eyes moved across your face carefully, as if contemplating what to say next.  Suddenly you felt like Xiumin was treating you like a wild animal; keeping you at a safe distance because he wasn’t sure how you would react. 

You cleared your throat, “Well?”

His eyes darkened.  Something in his face hardened.  Your stomach dropped.  

What was this all about? 

“I know I forced you into this marriage.”  He started, voice low and gravelly.  This was his business tone.  This was how he spoke when things were about to get serious, “And when I agreed to the marriage, I told you it was for the sake of the family.  That this was what was best for EXO.  An alliance with Bangtan.” 

You nodded once, sharply. 

“It is what’s best-”

“Let me finish,” He stopped you, “Y/N.  The reason I agreed to this marriage was for one reason, and one reason alone.” 

He licked his lips, waited a beat, and then sighed heavily. 

“We are going to take back what is ours.” 

The words seemed to drill a hole right through your heart.

“What?” 

“I wanted someone on the inside,” He gestured towards you, “Now you’re Jimin’s wife.  One of the special seven.  He’s as close to Taehyung as we can get.  Y/N, I want you to help me bring down Bangtan from the inside, out.”

Suddenly it felt like your chest was about to burst.  You blinked at your brother.

“Xiumin what are you talking about?  That’s crazy.” 

“It’s perfect, actually,” He brought out a file and handed it to you, “In there is the plan that Baekhyun and I have spent the last three months working out.  With your help, EXO will take back not only Gangnam, but our rightful place as the most powerful family in Seoul.” 

Your fingers shook as you stared down at the file he’d handed you.  Your brother wanted you to betray your own husband.

The man he’d forced you to marry.

The man you were pretty sure meant more to you than anybody else you’d ever known.

You felt something like tears crawl up the back of your throat.  Something in your gut twisted. 

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion.

“Xiumin… He trusts me,” You shook your head, “I can’t… It wouldn’t be right.” “Right?”  Your brother arched a dark, angry brow, “Bangtan is the enemy Y/N.  You’ve known that from the beginning.  They killed our parents.  They left us orphans.  They took Chanyeol away from me… My best friend.  They’ve taken almost everything from me, from our family.  This is our vengeance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You croaked out, mouth dry, “When you asked me to marry Jimin… Why didn’t you tell me that this was your plan all along?” 

His eyes darkened, “I couldn’t risk anybody else finding out.” 

“I’m your sister.” 

“EXO comes first.”  He answered sharply, “You’ve always known that.”

Xiumin had always been cold and calculated.  He’d always been predatory and intimidating.

But you’d never been scared of him.

Not until this very moment.  The look in his eyes frightened you to your core.

“Xiumin…” 

“Don’t tell me you have feelings for him, Y/N.”  Your brother’s mouth twisted into a scowl, “I told you from the very beginning.  This marriage has always been about power.” 

There was a long stretch of silence between the two of you.  Something in your chest tightened.  

“It will mean war.” 

“Then so be it.”

The steely ice in your brothers eyes made your blood run cold.  

“I don’t-” “This isn’t up for discussion,” He shook his head, “Read the file and we’ll talk next week.” 

That was it.  The end of the conversation.

You felt your heart drumming in your ears.  Your fingers were numb.  

But you forced your face into an impassive mask.  He couldn’t know.  This wasn’t your brother staring back at you.  This was Xiumin.   This was EXO’s leader.

Now you knew why so many feared him.

After a moment you nodded, “Okay.”

The word was quiet, but he heard it. 

As you stepped out of his office, and into the crisp Seoul morning air, you felt something wet touch your cheeks.  For a moment you wondered if it was raining.  You brought a hand to your skin to wiped it away.

And then you realised. 

You were crying.

It had been almost fifteen years since the last time you cried, at your parent’s funeral.  On that day, Xiumin had told you that tears were for the weak.  That you could never let your enemy know where your weakness was. 

And you’d kept that close to your heart.  Had always believed your brother’s words. 

Except now, everything was different.

And you had no clue what you were going to do next.

//

That evening, you sat in one of the studies in your home, reading over the file Xiumin had given you.  It detailed everything, from your marriage to Jimin, the gaining of your husband’s trust… To receiving vital information from Jimin. 

Then the plan went on.  How Xiumin wanted to use that information to strike Taehyung where he least expected it.

His wife. 

Xiumin was going to kill Kim Taehyung’s wife. 

Your blood ran cold, and you remembered the woman from the party.  Smiling at you, like you were friends.  Like you could trust her. 

There were few things in this life you regretted.  You’d killed so many times.  You’d watched people die right in front of you, and never felt an ounce of remorse.

But this? How could you do this?

Your heart turned over angrily in your chest.  

What would you do?  If you betrayed Jimin, like your brother wanted you to, then innocent people would die.  Bangtan would be ruined, and Taehyung’s wife would lose her life. 

But if you didn’t do as Xiumin told you…

That would be it.  You would have turned your back on him.

EXO would no longer be your family.

Your mind was spinning when there was a soft knock on the study door.

“Mrs Park?” Your pulse jumped.  It was your maid, Rose.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?” 

You stuffed the file into the top drawer of your desk and locked it, putting the key away in your bra, where you kept all of your invaluables.

“Yes.  Please.” The door clicked open and you were greeted by a bow from Rose and then a tight smile. 

“You have a visitor.” Your eyes widened.  Could it be your brother?

What would you tell him? 

“I do?  I don’t recall making plans.”

Rose nodded, “It is Mrs Jung.  Hoseok’s wife.” 

Oh.  You felt yourself deflate, slightly. 

“Alright,” You licked your bottom lip, and stood, “Bring her into the parlour.”

You wondered what Hoseok’s wife was doing here.  The two of you had shared pleasantries at the party the other night - but apart from that, you’d barely spoken to her.

You remembered the first time you’d met, how she seemed frightened of you, in a way that made you feel uncomfortable. 

You supposed that’s what you’d always wanted, really.  To be feared. 

So why had it hurt you when she’d been afraid?

You stepped into the parlour, and there she was, sat on one of the armchairs and drinking a cup of tea Rose had no doubt prepared for her.  You smiled as she caught your gaze.

“Good evening,” You bowed slightly, “What a pleasant surprise, Mrs Jung.”

“Please.  Call me ___.”

“Okay, ___.”  You came to sit beside her, and your smile widened slightly, “What brings you here?” 

She pursed her lips, “I wanted to talk about Jimin.” Your heart turned over.  It felt like you were unraveling. 

“You did?” 

“I saw the two of you - the other night, at the engagement party.  I know Taehyung’s wife already spoke to you but… I wanted to give my two cents.” You watched her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.  After a moment, she cleared her throat, setting the cup of tea to one side. 

“When I first met Hoseok, I thought I could never love him.”

The words felt far too personal; stifling, almost.  You shifted. 

“He was so hard on the outside - like a clam that refused to open,” She swiped her tongue across her lips and tucked some hair behind her ears, “And at first, I was convinced we’d spend the rest of our lives in a loveless marriage.  How many couples in our world feel the same?  But eventually… He let me in.  And it was the most beautiful thing.  You see, sometimes we can be our own worst enemies when it comes to love.  Vulnerability is scary, but it's also rewarding.  Trusting Hoseok scares the shit out of me, but I know that every day, when I come to bed, I’ve got someone that’s always fighting my corner.  I love him so much that sometimes it feels like I might burst.”  Her eyes traced your features carefully, “And the truth is… I want the same for you and Jimin.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“What?”

“I saw the way you looked at one another the other night,” She bit her lip, “And I hope it’s not presumptuous of me to say but - I think there’s something there.” There was a beat of silence, and then she asked, “Am I wrong?”

Your mind was racing.  Everything felt like it was caving in on you. 

You’d never said it out loud.  Never really even admitted it to yourself… That Park Jimin meant far more to you than he ever should have.

You cleared your throat, mind whipping back to the stupid file, in your stupid drawer.  You couldn’t do it.  Hadn’t even really considered it for a second, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“No.”  You shook your head and met her soft gaze, “You’re not wrong, ___.  I think I really like him.  I might even love the bastard.”

Her smile broke out into a wide grin, and she leaned forward, wrapping you in a hug that warmed you down to your very toes.  You reacted awkwardly, trying to copy her movements, but she just held on to you, like your reaction wasn’t strange at all. 

You could count on one hand, the amount of times you’d been well and truly hugged. 

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”  She asked as she pulled away, and you noticed she was crying, “Damn it.”  She wiped a tear away, “Fucking pregnancy hormones.” You laughed at that and nodded, “You’re right.  It is wonderful.  He’s wonderful.”

And now it was time for you to make things right.

//

Later on that night, when ___ had finally gone home, advising you to speak to your husband, you found yourself waiting outside the door to his study.

It had been three days since you’d spoken to him.  

He’d slunk away to the wing of the house you never really ventured to, burying himself in work and sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms.

You’d checked with Rose that he was alright - that was eating at least, and sleeping somewhat.  She told you (in secret, of course) that he’d done the same.

So that had to mean he didn’t completely hate you.

You took a deep breath, and gathered all the courage you had.  All the courage it took to raid warehouses, and shoot guns, and handle a knife so well it earned you the nickname Switchblade.

This was it. 

You rose a hand to the door, and knocked, once.

After a moment, Jimin’s gruff reply came, “Come in.”

You opened the portal, and you noticed his surprise the moment he saw it was you.

“Oh.  Y/N.”  His hair was messy and unkempt, and his eyes were searching, “I thought it might have been Rose.” “It’s not.”  You answered, obviously, “Can I come inside?” He nodded, standing abruptly and coming round to the other side of his desk.  You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, never once moving your eyes from his.

He sighed heavily, “I know it’s been a weird few days-” “Let me talk.”  You interrupted almost sharply, walking towards him until he was right in front of you.  You ignored the warmth in your chest at his closeness, and reminded yourself that this was about making things right with the man who had so unceremoniously stolen your heart. 

“Okay.”  He whispered, and you felt your heart wilt at the look on his face. 

He seemed worried.  Like you might be angry with him.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” You started, eyes refusing to disconnect from his gaze, “It was wrong of me to assume that a kiss could solve everything.  You’ve been so kind to me Jimin and I… I’m emotionally constipated.  That’s the truth.  Nobody has ever taught me how to deal with feelings… And I’m scared.  Of you.”

He took a deep breath, and you felt your hands shake as they came to rest on his chest.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, Y/N.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded, slowly, “Yeah, I know.  That’s the scary part.”

His eyes dropped to your lips, and you leaned in ever so slightly, waiting for him to make the first move. 

“I like you Jimin.”  You whispered, when his mouth brushed against yours, “In a way I’ve never liked anyone else.  Please.  Kiss me.” And so, he did.

He pressed his lips against yours, and pulled you into his arms, and your body thrummed to life at his touch.  Jimin was always such a dichotomy - strong and gentle, soft and hard.  Everything you wanted, and everything you hadn’t even known you needed. 

You’d told him you liked him, and that was probably a lie.  You didn’t like him, because like didn’t set your heart ablaze the way one kiss from him did.

You were in love with Park Jimin.

“I’m sorry I avoided you,” He apologised after he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “I was being stubborn.” You pressed a hand to his cheek and shook your head, “It doesn’t matter.  We’re here, now.”

He moved his lips down towards your neck, suckling on the sensitive skin there, and you keened towards him, feeling a heat bubble in the pit of your stomach.  You hadn’t had sex since your wedding night, and suddenly you were angry at yourself for having held back for long, when your husband was so willing to give you everything you wanted.

“Wanna make you mine again,” He whispered against your skin, thrusting against you harshly, “Is that okay, Princess?” “I’m already yours.”  You groaned, and he grunted before moving his hands to button of your jeans and moving them down your legs, along with your underwear.

He swiped a thumb across your slit, “Shit.  You’re so wet.” You preened at his words, feeling yourself glow with adoration for the man holding you in his arms. 

“C’mere.” He pulled his own trousers down, and slid inside of you, filling you up until you were aching.

“Jimin,” You moaned and he nodded, kissing you again so hotly you felt like you might faint.

“I know baby girl,” He grunted, thrusting inside of you, “All mine, yeah?” “All yours.”  You answered breathlessly, not even caring that you were both still wearing shirts, or that he was fucking you on his desk.

All that mattered was that Jimin was yours and you were his and things were starting to make sense. 

He slipped a hand between your thighs, strumming against your most sensitive part, in a way that caused your head to spin.  When you came, he let himself climax; spilling inside of you and moaning your name in a way you would fantasize about for the rest of your life.

“Shit.”  He muttered, pulling out of you and helping you clean up, “Sorry about that.  I don’t know what came over me.”

You pulled up your trousers and shook your head, wrinkling your nose and smiling, “Fuck.  I really enjoyed that, Jimin.  Maybe I should apologise more often.” He winked, and you felt your heart turn.

You had to tell him about Xiumin’s plan.

//

That evening, Jimin came back to bed, and he made love to you again, this time slowly, in a way that made your heart burst. 

When he finally fell asleep though, you found yourself tossing and turning.

Nothing could settle your mind. 

You’d made your decision of course, to tell Jimin the truth about your brother’s intentions.  

But you couldn’t rest your thoughts.  You kept going through the conversation over and over again.  The moment you told Jimin the truth, you knew that everything would change. 

EXO would no longer be your family.  You would lose Xiumin and Baekhyun - you would lose any semblance of love or loyalty you’d ever had. 

You would be turning your back on everything you’d ever known.

And yet, there was no other option for you.  Your mind was made up.

Eventually, at the crack of dawn, when the rest of the world was waking up, you were finally able to fall asleep.  You dreamt of your brother, and blood and pain, and everything you knew was coming. 

“Y/N.” 

You knew that voice.  Jimin.  Your eyes cracked open, a soft smile on your face at the sound of your husband.  Jimin.

Everything was different now, wasn’t it? You’d bared the truth to him - told him how you felt.  Now he was yours. 

Except when your eyes moved to connect with his, you felt your heart drop down to your stomach.  Your chest clenched. 

He was holding the file.

The file Xiumin had given you. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

Your eyes flickered between what was in his hands and his face.  He was furious.  Like the colour red.  You’d never seen him so angry before.

“Wait - please I can explain!” “Explain how your fucking brother wants to kill Taehyung’s wife?”  He spat the words out like they were acid, and you felt your skin crawl at the tone of his voice, “Or how he’s using you to manipulate me?” 

He tugged a hand through his hair, throwing the file on the ground and running a hand across his face, “Fuck.  I can’t believe this.  I can’t believe I actually believed you when you said you wanted to make things right.  I’m such an idiot-” 

“I did!”  You scrambled up, tugging the sheets with you and feeling tears crawl up your throat.  You were going to cry for Park Jimin again, “Please Jimin you have to listen to me-” 

“Just get out, alright?  Just pack your fucking things and get out, before I do something I’m going to really regret.” The coldness in his voice was like a slap to your face - stinging and angry.

“Jimin please…” “Get out!”  He turned towards you, his face burning with anger, “Get out.  Pack your fucking things, and get out of my goddamn house!” 

He grabbed the file from the floor and without even a second glance, stepped out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut. 

You broke into sobs. 

Love really had been your undoing.

//

[heartbreakgrill]

Circles; Harry Styles Pt. 2

“Remember Frankie? From World History? She has a baby now,” you remarked, voice like lyrics over the rhythm of your white tennis shoes and Harry’s leather boots stepping in time on the concrete bike path.

Leaves occasionally fell, crunching under your feet, sticks and stones on the path being kicked or broken away. The fall wind blew gently, waving strands of your air in front of your face. You had decided against lipgloss, luckily because your hair was so unruly. Harry’s curls, a beautiful feature of his which you always admired, were flopping with each step. You found your eyes trailing from his cheek to his hair consistently, simply admiring. He didn’t catch on much, his own focus glancing between you and the ground beneath his feet.

Lunch had been wonderful. He took to you the local pub, where you sat in the corner, knees bumping against each other after every movement. You shared a basket of fries, ate your own sandwiches and drinks. You caught up on everything: Your studies in London, who your friends were these days, the last boy who broke your heart. He told you about Louis and Niall, and only a little of Liam and Zayn. He explained the sketchiness of his management, the stress of touring, but his excitement on stage. You admitted to have listened to his two albums the night before and told him Little Thins became a quick favorite. You told him about your plan to move to New York when you finished University in order to delve into the world of international journalism.

After lunch, you didn’t want to leave one another, lingering in front of the door, still chatting, when you remembered the local bike trails. (“Gosh, I haven’t been there in forever.” “Same here.”)

So, now, you were strolling along, hands in pockets and elbows bumping somewhat. He replied to your comment about a forgotten classmate with, “God, its strange to think about people we know having children. Were only 19.”

You shrugged, “That’s normal around here, I guess. People settle down straight away, let go of their dreams for simpler, easier things.”

“I could’ve done that,” Harry spoke with a whispery tone. “Sometimes I wish I would’ve.”

You didn’t want to poke and prod at a comment that could turn into something bigger and moved on. “You’ve got money. Be happy.” Of course, this was a joke.

Harry laughed, “Money cant buy happiness.”

“Oh, I’m sure it could buy mine.” He glanced at you inquisitively. “Well, Im constantly stressed in London because of work and school. Its stressful and exhausting paying for my apartment and class and food and life.”

Harry frowned somewhat, “That’s part of the reason I hate it sometimes. I’m so lucky and undeserving of all I get just because I can sing and I’m attractive. You work so hard for what you have and you still struggle. It’s unfair.”

You retrieved your hand from your pocket and pushed him lightly, “I’m just confused as to who said you were attractive.”

He blushed deeply, his eyes downcast and shy. Suddenly he met your eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “You did say I was cute.”

Your own cheeks quickly turned red. “I’m gonna avoid my problems.” Your pace quickened and you began to walk away from Harry.

He giggled, emitting a grin on your face, and walked fast. Harry reached out and grabbed you around the waste, spinning you around in his arms. You caught yourself on his shoulders, feeling his warm breath combat the cold on your cheeks. He grinned cheekily down at you, eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t lie,” you unashamedly spoke. “Ive always thought you were cute. Hell, the only reason I came to the bakery so much was because of you.”

“What about the muffins?” He mused.

“Harry, a girl gets sick of eating muffins every single Saturday for 2 years in a row.”

He chuckled, squeezing your waist gently. But, then, his eyes fell slightly, his lips molding into a frown. His grip loosened and he almost stepped back. But, he didn’t. “Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow? With me?”

“I’d really like it if you could get Niall’s number for me, but I guess you’ll do,” you whipped your head around in exclamation.

He scoffed, laughing loudly, before pulling you against his chest. You just stood there, hugging each other lightly, though you were shivering in the breeze. Soon after, he walked you home and even kissed your cheek prior to leaving. You giddily walked up to your bedroom, bare of much decoration because of your schooling situation. You closed the door and leant against like a heartsick teenager. You felt the same way you did two years ago, head over innocent heels for some stupid boy. You didn’t know if this would work, given your future career and his present one. You didn’t know what his favorite color was, but he did telll you his favorite way to drink tea. You didn’t know who his childhood cartoon crush was, but you knew that when he looked at you, your stomach was in flames.

You didn’t know what you would regret in the future, as no one does. So you decided to jump.

-

Harry had definitely gone on Pinterest.

When you opened your door (only knowing he would be arriving at the time he did because you spent the entire afternoon, night, and morning texting one another) you immediately smelled the sweet fragrance of men’s cologne. It was nice, slightly overwhelming, but nice nonetheless. He held a bouquet of red roses, your favorite because you told him you were a fan of cliches. He wore a jade green button-up, short-sleeve dress shirt. It was obviously new, given away by the fact that there were creases in his sleeves. (His favorite color was ocean blue, by the way, and yours was the color of his shirt.) In his other hand was a picnic basket, which he held up to you after he handed off the roses.

“It’s freezing outside, Harry,” you giggled whilst motioning him to step inside. He did, following you into the kitchen.

You set the roses up in a vase as he replied, “I know. But its okay because I have a really nice idea.”

“Okay, I trust you,” you spoke reassuringly. You turned towards him from your spot by the counter.

Harry’s eyes trailed over your figure, clad in a long-sleeve, ocean blue wrap top tucked into a pair of blue jeans which stopped just above your black ankle boots. Gold jewelry dangled above the neckline and from your ears, your hair tied up in a low messy bun which took too much effort. “You look lovely, by the way.”

“You, too,” you grinned, meeting his eyes. “Guess we both thought of impressing one another.”

“I went to three different stores to find this,” he spoke as you began to lead him back to the front door.

“Uh, me, too. Don’t act so special,” you grabbed your coat off the rack and slipped your arms through it. Harry laughed.

You bid farewell to your parents, who were watching television in the living room. They gushed over Harry, about to ask him a million questions when you said, “Dinner reservations, sorry, got to go!”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. You didn’t let go, and neither did he, but he had to in order to open your door. You hadn’t expected this and hesitantly slid into the passenger seat. “Thanks.” You told him once he started the car.

After a few moments of adjustable, comfortable silence, you piped up again, “So, where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

You arrived to a park two towns over after half an hour. It was massive, with lookout spots all over the hills. He parked in one with the trunk of his mum’s car facing out over the countryside. He opened your door for you, again, and led you to the back of the car.

“Okay, Ted Bundy,” you giggled lightly, walking ahead of him.

“Oh, please, I dont want to kill you,” he scoffed, popping the trunk. “At least not until the nights over.”

“Why not?” You held his eyes, not yet looking to the trunk.

He shrugged, “Because I have to get a goodnight kiss first.”

He left you stunned, cheeks red and eyes wide. Harry sat down in the trunk, leaning back against the pillows and blankets decorating the small space. You grinned at him, as he was awaiting your reaction. He leant a hand and helped you settle next to him. You both crossed your legs in order for him to set the picnic basket down. He shut the trunk, the heater cranked up and the radio playing.

“Were wasting so much gas,” you laughed, shedding your coat.

Harry took it from you, folded it, and set it on the folded down back seats. He took off his own, “Dont worry about it. I’m rich, remember?”

You tossed your head back with a loud laugh. The hours flew by from there on: He had made finger sandwiches, which you ate with liberation, and homemade lemonade packaged in a thermos. His mother helped him melt chocolate and cover strawberries in it. He had even made a mini cake at the bakery and packaged it all nicely for you two to share. You talked about everything you hadn’t already discussed: Music, books, television, his supporting act on tour, your favorite professors. You told him about your dumb job waitressing, about the lady who had tipped you one-hundred euros.

Once you were done, you helped him pack up the trash. He set the picnic basket in the front seat before shutting off the car. The sunroof was closed, but the stars were visible through it. He laid down on the blankets, head smushing the pillows. You sat there for a moment, feeling slightly awkward, before he motioned for you to lay down, too.

You cleared your throat, face hot and body stiff, before doing so. There were barely a few inches between you, but Harry made sure there were none. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tugged you into him. You took the liberation to lean your head on his chest and lay your arm across his stomach. No words were exchanged, but they didn’t need to be. Everything that you could learn had probably already been said: Deeper stories, moments, could be exchanged later. A bond was now established and you already knew what was coming.

For now, you could only enjoy the moments that he was here: His hand in yours when he drove you home; hand in yours as you led him to the front door; lazily smiling down at you; a gentle, comforting hug; his eyes flickering between yours, your lips; his breath fanning closer until he stole his goodnight kiss.

“Guess you can kill me now.”

TAG LIST: @mantlereid , @boxofteenageideas , @dinosaursandsocks @ashhdaniellee95 @heartbreakcity @sadhwstudent

[imaginexmeintheuniverse]

5 times you infuriated me and 1 time you made it okay

A/N: okay so the 5 times concept is something i enjoy writing very much, however i am aware that in this piece in particular, a lot of the ideas are underdeveloped and probably especially dont make sense with the ending when you look at the relationship, but please keep in mind that this ‘5 times’ theme i chose focuses on those kinds of incidents so there are a lot of other times in between (and i dont have the time or energy to turn this into a super long fic but perhaps one day.. ) so this is what happened!

Warnings: mentions of torture (like in the 7th when Bellatrix takes to Hermione)

Tags: @expellimarvelous and for some reason my hp taglist got lost so let me know if you’d like to be added!

↠↠↠↠↠↠

I. Bad Start to the Sixth Year

Your sixth year at Hogwarts seems to be off to a good start as you laugh and snack on sweets with two of your three your best friends on Hogwarts Express. Or at least it seemed like it was off to a good start until the train arrives at the station, and Harry is nowhere to be found.

Waving off Ron and Hermione with a promise to catch up, you insist on going to look for him by yourself. Your search leads you all the way to the other side of the strain where the blinds are conveniently drawn. You can hear a voice muffled through the closed door, and you become filled with dread when you identify who it belongs to.

Sliding the door open a crack, you see a familiar head of slicked-back platinum hair. You aren’t able to make out what he says, but you do see him bring down a foot to meet Harry’s nose.

“Malfoy, what the fuck?!” you burst out, causing the Slytherin boy to jump in surprise.

“Y-Y/N- I-I—”

“I don’t know what the bloody hell you think you’re getting away with, but you better get the fuck off this train before I curse you,” you snarl, shoving him aside to get to Harry. Seeing that he’s been petrified, you take your wand out of your jacket pocket and mutter, “finite,” to which your friend thankfully wakes up, blinking a few times. He doesn’t move much, as he tries to regain control of his muscles, and you insist he takes a moment to do so.

Throughout this, Draco has gone so quiet you think he might have actually left, but when you turn your head to meet his stormy eyes, you’re filled with rage, once again.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?! Get out!”

“But Y/N, I-I'm—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you say in a lower tone as you tend to your friend, not even sparing him another glance.

Why is it that just when you think there might be a redeemable quality buried deep in Draco Malfoy, he always does something that proves otherwise?

II. Welcome to the Slugclub

“Okay, okay! I was gate-crashing! Happy?” He admits, trying to shake off Filch’s grasp on his jacket.

His eyes that used to be sharp and bright, have recently become sullen. They lock with yours for a solid moment before he’s ushered out by Snape.

Your eyes linger on his figure as he’s led away from the party— probably longer than they should have, but you can’t help noticing how thin he’s become. You’ve barely seen him all year, despite having a few classes together. He was never that hefty to begin with, but it looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in ages. Other than his usual perfectly tailored wardrobe, he now wears dark circles under his eyes, and it’s impossible not to notice how the contours of his face have become that much sharper and his already pale skin has adopted a sickly pigmentation.

You and Harry follow the pair out, but for different reasons. You know that Harry wouldn’t be happy about yours because of his suspicions, but Draco looks like he’s crumbling under stress.

Eavesdropping only proves Harry’s doubts about Malfoy, and he then decides to rejoin the party as to not get caught by Snape, but you hang back, telling him you need to go to the loo.

You wait in the shadows until you hear Snape’s steps scurry away before approaching Malfoy who stays behind, sitting on a ledge. A half-smirk appears on his face upon noticing you like he’s been gathering an arsenal of insults to shoot at you, but really, under the snide mask, he marvels at how lovely you look tonight.

“Straying from your date with Potter?” he spits out Harry’s name like it’s revolting to have on his tongue. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think Potter’s lady is ditching him in favour of a more refined pureblood—”

“He’s one of my best friends!” You roll your eyes and flail your hands up in exasperation. “And how is the nature of our relationship any of your business?!”

He snorts, leaning his back on the walk behind him and crosses his arms over his chest nonchalantly.

“You know, I came out here to check and make sure you were okay!” You shout at him hands coming up to furiously push your hair back. “I can’t believe that for a second I thought that— no- but you—”

“You thought what?” His voice has become softer, hard exterior starting to peel away in your presence. He stands from his seat, mild concern washing over his features.

You shake your head, looking anywhere but at him. “N-Nothing—”

“Tell me,” his hands place themselves on your biceps, long fingers curling around your arms gently.

You fall victim to his intense gaze, getting lost in the grey seas of his irises. His features aren’t as hard as they usually are and the grasp he has on you is delicate; like he’s afraid to hurt you and you almost feel like you can let your guard down. Almost.

“Is it true?” you ask him, diverging from the subject and he raises an eyebrow in response. “Did you hex Katie Bell?”

He opens his mouth, and then closes it without a word when he realizes he has nothing to answer to that and you’re the only person he can’t lie to. That’s enough of a confirmation for you. You let out a breath of disbelief and he starts to panic, because contrary to the backwards dynamic the two of you share, part of him does care what you think. “Y/N- p-please listen—”

All emotion leaves your voice as you tell him, “Just leave me alone, Malfoy.”

You shrug him off, and spin on your heel, breaking the eye contact. Walking down the hall, you leave him there to bask in the silence and his dark thoughts.

III. Hair Like You

You’re already teeming with rage as you scour the castle for Ron, who slipped you one of Fred and George’s prank snacks that ended up changing your hair color. Running into Draco Malfoy, of all people, really puts the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

To make things worse, it looks as though he’s going out of his way to get to you when he spots you from across the courtyard. At first he squints, not fully sure if it’s you with the new physical change, and then tails you down two hallways, not giving a single damn how creepy he may look.

“What do you want, Malfoy—”

“It seems like you’re more obsessed with me than I had originally thought,” he snickers, catching up with your quickened pace.

That’s when it hits you, and you instantly halt, causing him to smack into your back. Spinning around to face him, your eyes widen in horror as you take in the familiar platinum blonde hair— the same shade you saw in the mirror earlier.

“That’s just great!” You throw your hands up dramatically. “Now I look like you!”

“Please, don’t flatter yourself—”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!”

“You know, it really doesn’t look that bad. Maybe you’re starting to have better taste.”

Despite knowing full well that that was Malfoy speak for a compliment, you’re in no mood for it. “Oh, well I’m so glad that the Slytherin prince thinks me, a lowly commoner, 'doesn’t look that bad’ just fu—”

“No! No! No! Y/N! I didn’t mean—”

“—ck off! Because on top of looking like the most insufferable git in the entire school what I really wanted was to receive a backhanded compliment—” And just then, you spot the familiar redhead with bad influences for older brothers from across the hall who you’re even more pissed off at than Malfoy.

“I don’t have time for this,” is all you say as you bolt down the hall towards Ron, screaming, “YOU’RE DEAD, WEASLEY!”

IV. Held Hostage

Hermione’s screams are enough to make you feel like you’re being gutted, and when Bellatrix takes her knife to your arm, you’re absolutely terrified. At least this means your best friend has a break from her torture. In the meantime, you nearly bite through your cheek to hold in your own screams whilst the saddistic woman spells out the hateful term that’s been thrown at you your whole life, carving it into your flesh.

After what feels like hours, the death eater sits back up, admiring the her work with a sickening grin on her face, and you want nothing more than to smack it off. Or at least you would if you didn’t feel like you’ve been drained. What you do feel is defiled; like your own skin is no longer yours, and the blood that runs through your veins doesn’t belong to you.

And Draco Malfoy has been standing on the other end of the room this whole time whilst his barbaric aunt tries to get information out of you.

The rest of what happens is experienced through the blur of hopeless tears your eyes are clouded with, until Harry picks you up off the floor after Bellatrix had pushed you and Hermione to save herself from the falling chandelier. A certain fire surges through you as you regain full consciousness.

You see Harry and Draco fight over his wand, and instinct kicks in as you lunge forward, efficiently tackling the latter to the ground. Snatching the wand out of his hand, you throw it to Harry. The blonde boy’s struggles are weak under your weight, almost half-assed as you feel the tension start to leave his muscles.

“Why?!” you shout in his face, grabbing him by the collar to keep him down. Tears well your eyes, but your gaze pierces through him nonetheless. The feelings of helplessness and emptiness are long gone as angry tracks burn down your cheeks. “Why—”

“Y/N!” Harry scoops you off him in one swift motion, pulling you to where your allies have regrouped. “This isn’t the time- w-we have to get out of here!”

You don’t say another word, and your infuriated eyes target the conflict and fear that resides in Draco’s. He’s left with the image of your anguish and fury engrained in his mind long after you disapparate.

V. Crossing Over

The Dark Lord himself beckoned him, and for a second you thought he might resist, but then his mother called him, extending her hand for him to come to her, and you saw him break.

“No!” You cry out as he starts to take hesitant steps towards the death eaters. “Draco, don’t do this!” His already shaky demeanor falters for a moment at the sound of his first name falling from your lips. “You have a choice.”

Steeling his nerves, he doesn’t allow himself to look back, because he would surely crumble under the weight of your gaze and the pain etched into your features. He continues forward, into the arms of a proud tyrant, and you swear your heart drops out of your chest.

Then, the whole scene with Neville’s heroic spirit ensues and you feel the fire within you flare up again when Harry tumbles out of Hagrid’s arms. Death Eaters that have been backing Voldemort start to disappear, leaving an unevenly distributed cloud of darkness.

Everyone else starts to retreat to the castle to regroup and fight as one, but you chase after the fleeing Malfoy family. It’s as though you have no control as your legs move under you on autopilot and as fast as they can go.

You’ve almost caught up to the trio on the bridge and can no longer help yourself.

“Coward!” You yell, trying your best not to let your voice crack, with no avail. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from spilling freely. Draco meets your eyes with his own that portray a boy who is terrified out of his mind, but you’re relentless. The truth isn’t always easy. “You’re a bloody coward, Malfoy!”

Avoiding your fiery gaze, he turns into his mother’s comfort. Not once do his eyes meet yours again before he disappears in a whisp of black smoke.

What you feel is rage, but with that rage comes with an added indescribable pain and disappointment.

+ Midsummer Night’s Dream

The next time you see the infamous Draco Malfoy is just over a year since he disapparated in a whisp of black smoke. Little do you know, immediately after apparating, the boy fell to his knees in the arms of his mother. He broke that day, and hasn’t been able to put himself back together since, contrary to the proud Malfoy mask he wears out in public. He hides behind crisp suits and perfectly-coiffed platinum locks. It’s enough to have anyone who reads the Daily Prophet fooled about how the heir carries onto a successful path despite everything that has happened.

But not you. He never could fool you of anything, really. So when you and your friends spot him taking a seat alone at the Three Broomsticks you know something’s up, because a refined Malfoy doesn’t just hang out amongst mere commoners like that.

“What is he doing here?” Ron spits out, red fury already starting at the tips of his ears and seething from his narrowed eyes.

As if on cue, Draco’s eyes lift from his glass to meet yours.

Hermione sends you a sympathetic smile before mumbling calming words to her boyfriend. The Malfoys and Weasleys always did get each other riled up.

Harry, who sits beside you, gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder to get your attention and you can immediately read his expression. He can read yours just as easily and can see that you’re starting to get anxious. “Y/N…”

“Harry, it’s okay,” you simper, standing slowly from your seat. “I’ve got this.”

He casts a glance towards the blond across the room before his eyes come back meet yours, sending you a look as though to ask if you’re sure. You give him a nod and he sends you off with a comforting squeeze of your hand.

As you make your way to the table for one, you’re so focused on slowing your heart rate that you’ve arrived at your destination before you know it, seeing the shiny black dress shoes in contrast to the uneven wood panels of the pub’s floor. When you lift your gaze, it’s then that you realize he’s been staring at you the whole time.

“Malfoy.”

“Y/N.”

The sound of your first name rolling off his tongue lights something inside you— and it’s not pretty.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice is steady, but with a strong undertone of something darker. Like the calm before a storm.

“Can’t a man enjoy a butterbeer on his own?” Despite him being absolutely terrified of you, he somehow manages to exude a certain lightness. You look at his untouched pint and raise an eyebrow and he knows you aren’t in the mood for small talk.

“Cut the shit, Malfoy.”

Recognizing the beginnings of anger in your tone, he stands as smoothly as he can manage and gestures towards the door. The last thing he wants is for you to snap because he knows very well what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your fury.

He follows closely behind as you lead him out into the dim lighting of Hogsmead. The summer air doesn’t feel as heavy as it has for the last week, and the sky proudly shows off the twinkling stars. It would be a perfect night if not for your circumstances.

You stop in your tracks and spin to face him so briskly, your forehead almost hits his chin. “You have one minute to talk before I hex you where you stand.”

“You always did excel in hexes and jinxes—”

“Fifty-five seconds, Malfoy.”

“Uh- erm- o-okay—”

You have about zero patience left. The anger thats been quietly bubbling for the last year has been on the brim of overflowing the second he walked in tonight, but so has all the pain and sadness you’ve kept locked up all this time. “You’re wasting my time.” You prepare to stalk off, but a firm hand pulls you back by your elbow, and for the the first time since the war, your face with Draco Malfoy. It’s the first time tonight that you can really see him. He looks worse than ever.

The silver pools that once resided in his irises look like shells of what they once were. And he sure felt that way, until he saw you. That’s when he realizes how empty he always is until he’s around you. My, how he took that for granted all these years.

Trying your very best, you fight against the urge to give into the part of you who still cares for him and wants to know the last time he had a good night’s sleep. You also try to fight against the water accumulation behind your eyelids, but it only makes it worse.

“What?! What do you want, Draco?!”

The use of his first name is the only sign he needs to be brave for once. Without further hesitation, he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. Once over the initial shock, you give in for only a half second before you come to your senses and push him back, both hands planted firmly on his chest.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?!”

“I-I- Y/N, I-I’m so—” Right then, is one of the few times you see what he’s really feeling on the inside be expressed on the outside. “I-I just-I thought—”

“You- you thought what?! We’d ride off into the sunset on the back of a unicorn and live happily ever after?!” You don’t care how frantic you look right now. You don’t care that the midsummer night wind is whipping your hair into complete and utter chaos. And you definitely don’t give a single fuck about how the drunk people stumbling by you giggle uncontrollably. You pause for a moment as you wait for them to be out of earshot, and once they are, you let out a frustrated breath and resume. “Did you honestly believe that you could kiss me, and then everything— all of the absolute shite of a mess would just go away?!”

His gaze drops to the ground that his shiny dress shoes stand on, with a few platinum strands that fall from their place. Those are the only visible signs of something amiss with the well-dressed man. But you see something else cloud his features: shame. The last time you saw that, which was also the last time you saw him, he left. He always left you while you were angry, enraged, and never stuck around to face the truth.

Draco Malfoy decides that this time is going to be different.

He has felt as empty as his eyes appeared for months, but when his gaze rolls back up to meet yours, you see the grey storms you saw when you first met him. Sure, they were masked by an outer shell that was brimming with entitlement, but they have now what they had then. Purpose.

“Y/N,” His hands twitch as he fights the urge to reach out for yours, deciding against it in favour of using two words you’ve been waiting to hear. “I’m sorry.” You soften, releasing the tension you didn’t realize you carried in your shoulders. The angry tears that stung the backs of your eyes melt to something peaceful as they escape their ducts. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I know I don’t deserve another chance, or any of the chances you’ve given me, but if you’ll give me one more I promise I’ll be better. Everything you’ve ever said about me is true; I am a coward, but I’m not leaving this time.”

“And what if I want you to leave?” You ask, testing the waters, more than anything else.

“If you tell me to leave— if that is what you truly want, then I will. Tell me to leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Okay, then leave.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Y-Yes—” You stammer out a complete lie. Every cell on your body knows it’s a lie, and apparently so does he.

“I don’t believe you.”

More than anything, you want to fling yourself into his arms but you feel like your feet have been colashoo-ed to the ground. A corner of his mouth quirks up into a soft lopsided smile as his hands raise to thread fingers through the top of your hairline, smoothing wild strands away from your face. His touch is so careful and delicate than you could have ever imagined. He leans down slowly and stops just as his lips have brushed over yours, asking for permission, “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Syllables get caught in your throat, and channel themselves through you body as you move to slate your mouth over his. The sensation is so delicately mind-blowing, and it leaves you absolutely breathless when you pull away to lean your forehead against his.

All you can manage to breathe out is, “stay”.

The way your breath fans over his lips is intoxicating, and he’s certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful, no work of art finer, than the way you’re looking at him.

“I’m not leaving this time. Never again.”

His grasp tightens as he pulls you back to his lips and your fingers curl around the light fabric of his shirt. Every emotion and feeling accumulated over lost time is poured into this kiss.

This time, what you feel for him is something stronger and far different than anger.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

All Is Found:Anastasia!AU

Part V – In The Dark Of The Night

Fandom: The Witcher Word Count: 2,509 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @jill-makes-art​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @mycat-is-mylove​  a/n: A retelling of Don Bluth’s Anastasia (1997)

{prologue}{part i}{part ii}{part iii}{part iv}

The plan was fairly easy, all things considered. After several successful border crossings Geralt and Jaskier had established a streamlined process. When they returned to the little house Geralt and Jaskier shared, which was more of an abandoned building than an actual home, you were told to try and rest as you would be traveling all night to get out of Old Nilfgaard. Jaskier had gallantly fluffed the pillow for you and you’d lain on the straw mattress bed and stared at the ceiling for some time. You tossed and turned until Jaskier finally came to check on you.

“What’s going on in there?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep,” you answered.

“Oh, thank the gods. I thought you were wrestling with a particularly tenacious rat,” he quipped.

“Very funny,” you murmured. Jaskier smiled kindly and moved a bit closer, crouching down by the bed so his face was level with yours.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” he said.

“I’m not nervous,” you lied. He cocked an eyebrow in disbelief but you kept your face placid as you gazed back, the sky-blue eyes nearly silver in the beams of sunlight that streamed through little slats in the wall.

“Well if you were nervous, I’d assure you that we have done this several times and there have never been any casualties,” Jaskier said.

“And if I wasn’t nervous what would you say?” you asked, stubbornly refusing to admit you were scared but trying to keep him by your side talking. Even if he frustrated you at times, you didn’t want to be alone. You’d spent too much of your life alone already.

“I’d tell you to stop thrashing around or you’ll wake the bats in the attic,” he answered glibly. You made an annoyed harrumphing sound and flipped back over, unsure if the squeak you heard was a trick of your mind or one of the aforementioned bats. Jaskier walked back into the little living space where Geralt sat sharpening one of his swords. It had been unsettling to watch the first few times but now it was as commonplace as seeing him wash a dish or grunt impassively.

“Is she alright?” he asked, glancing up at Jaskier as he plopped heavily into a chair that wobbled dangerously under his weight.

“She’s nervous but she won’t admit it,” Jaskier replied, “She’s certainly stubborn enough to be a queen.”

“Stubborn can be good. Stubborn keeps people focus on a goal,” Geralt replied, sheathing the sword.

“Perhaps, but it makes for difficult conversation,” Jaskier grumbled.

“Jaskier, don’t tell me you of all people are having a hard time making conversation. I thought it was one of your foremost skills. You’ve certainly practiced long enough,” Geralt muttered.

“It’s hard to get anywhere with someone who won’t be open with you,” the bard argued.

“And how open have you been with her?” Geralt asked. Jaskier scoffed and sputtered as he tried to think of a good answer.

“That is.. entirely different,” he snorted.

“Indeed.”

“Yes!”

“How?”

“It just is,” Jaskier snapped. Geralt leaned closer, fixing his amber eyes on Jaskier’s blue ones intently.

“You both have histories. But you’ve had someone to talk with, she hasn’t. If our lives in this godsforsaken country has made us cautious, imagine what it’s like for someone whose family was slaughtered and who just found out who they truly are?”

Jaskier squirmed uncomfortably under Geralt’s words, unable to deny the truth in them.

“I suppose I can be more accommodating,” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt smiled at him proudly and they both turned to look as the door to the bedroom creaked open. You stood in the threshold and fixed them both with a cautious but determined expression.

“I can’t sleep so I’d rather help prepare,” you said. Jaskier and Geralt exchanged a brief glance and then Geralt nodded. Jaskier turned to look back at you, a smile playing about his lips.

“Are you handy with any weapons?” he asked. You thought hard for a moment, not wanting to say no but not wanting to lie and look like an ass or endanger them in a critical moment.

“I used to throw knives. For a little bit. Till the Headmistress found out,” you said.

“That’s a start! What about archery? Ever held a bow?” he asked.

“No, but I have pretty good upper arm strength! I was always giving the girls spins,” you answered proudly.

“Sorry, giving them what?”

“Spins! It’s when you pick a child up under their arms and you spin them around in a circle,” you hoisted your arms up, pantomiming the action as you moved in a circle until you stumbled into a nearby chair.

“Let’s try the knives,” Geralt said with an encouraging smile. He rose from his chair and reached into a bag, pulling out three ornate, lightweight daggers and gestured for you to follow him outside.

-----

The blades glistened in the candlelight, nearly dry though the mages could still see the shimmer of poison that had yet to fully be absorbed.

“If any part of the blade so much as grazes her flesh, the poison will ensure her death within a minute. It should go without saying that you need to avoid touching it yourself,” Stregobor announced. The three mages he’d chosen for the mission nodded in unison.

“There are few routes they could be taking but the witcher will choose the mountain. I have seen it,” he said, looking down at the flames that were mirrored in the blades like a seer gazing into a crystal ball.

“You will bring her body to me,” he instructed.

“What of the witcher and the bard?” one of the mages asked. Stregobor’s eyes glanced up at them as he considered the question and then gave an impassive shrug.

“You can do with those what you wish. There are some who would be eager for the chance to examine a witcher’s corpse. The bard is of no consequence. The only one I care about is the girl,” he answered.

“What happens if…” the mage who had begun to speak thought twice and quickly closed their mouths but Stregobor’s sharp eyes were on him, hawk like and predatory.

“If?” Stregobor prodded. The mage glanced up into his eyes and then away again. There were a few tense moments of silence and then Stregobor pulled himself up to his full height, crossing his hands behind his back as he looked down at the trio in front of him who looked everywhere but towards him.

“Allow me to be very clear with you all,” he said in a calm, composed voice, “You either bring her body to me, or you do not come back at all. You have been chosen to complete a task. Failure will not be accepted, no matter the circumstance. Does that answer any lingering questions you may have?”

The three nodded in unison again, eyes on the ground, and Stregobor nodded as well, satisfied that they were sufficiently motivated.

“They will leave at dusk. I will portal you now so you can be waiting for them. Do not fail me,” he said. He picked up the daggers and handed them carefully over, one to each mage.

-----

They left under the cover of night and they would go through a cave path in the mountains that the pair alone knew. It would take them into Sodden where they would be safe to travel openly through the other countries until they reached Cidaris. Geralt took the lead with you in the middle, Jaskier ostensibly in the back but he had decided a good use of time walking would be providing a history lesson so he spent more time by your side than behind you.

“Repeat back to me, your grandmother...”

“Marie,” you answered confidently.

“From House…,” Jaskier trailed off, looking at you expectantly.

“House… Tussel?”

“Thyssen,” Jaskier corrected.

“Question, would I really have known that or paid attention as a child? I mean as a seven year old did you know your grandmother’s maiden name?” you argued. Jaskier ran a hand through his chestnut hair.

“I am not a prince, Y/N, nobody cares who my grandparents are or where they’re from. It matters for you and it would have as soon as you understood words and symbols,” Jaskier insisted.

“Tell me something meaningful about them,” you asked, “Just… something besides dates and houses.”

“What do you consider meaningful?” he asked.

“Well… why is she in Cidaris? Why not stay in Toussaint?”

“House Thyssen is a Cidarian dynasty, she returned when there began to be word of unrest in the country,” he explained, “Word was that you were supposed to join her but never got the chance.”

“Speaking of that,” you said quickly before he could ask another question, “How did she get out? And me? And how did I not stay with her?”

Jaskier considered your question for a moment, a silence lapsing between you as he considered his answer. When he opened his mouth to answer Geralt held up a hand, halting you both. You instinctively reached for the knife Geralt had given you for protection and you saw Jaskier’s hand go towards something as well. You stayed like that for a few minutes as Geralt listened and waited. You were within sight of the bushes that obscured the cave entrance, so close to freedom that you felt the itch to run for it but you knew better than to take that risk. After five minutes had passed you opened your mouth to speak but Jaskier saw and quickly took your hand. When you looked over at him he shook his head. Geralt spun around, pulling something from his pocket and sending it flying just where your head had been seconds before Jaskier pulled you to the ground, cushioning your fall with his body. You heard a shriek and turned to see someone drop from a nearby tree. Geralt reached for another one and you heard an ungodly scream from the right. You jumped up, hands fumbling for the dagger as someone in a robe came running towards you from the trees, something in their hand glinting in the moonlight. Jaskier rose up before you could get a good grasp on the knife handle and thrust one of his own. It landed in the assailant’s shoulder and they fell backward with a cry of pain. Jaskier seized your hand and pulled him behind you. Geralt looked around the perimeter, yellow eyes scanning the trees carefully. For a moment the only sound was of your breathing, shaky and anxious, and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Jaskier’s hand squeezed yours hard, the only sign of his own nervousness, and you squeeze back just as hard. Geralt turned again to look into the trees and you felt something grasp your ankle. You kicked instinctively and by the time you looked down the third assailant held a hand over their eye, blindly swiping at you with a dagger that missed you by inches. You kicked again and the dagger went flying. Before Jaskier could do anything you were on top of the assailant who struggled but couldn’t shake you as you held them down, your legs wrapped around their waist and your hands keeping their shoulders pinned to the earth.

‘Who are you?” you demanded. The hood had fallen back and you were surprised to find what looked like an ordinary young man.

“It doesn’t matter,” the man spat, “I’m dead.”

“Not necessarily,” you said, “If you answer some questions…”

Before you could continue the man reached for the blade that was just beyond his outstretched fingers but Jaskier stepped on it, pulling it further away as Geralt moved in to pull you off of the man. He didn’t try to run, he just looked up into the witcher’s golden eyes defiantly.

“Do it,” he snapped.

“Who sent you?” Geralt asked. The man scoffed and shook his head. You noticed him begin to move his hand in a strange pattern but before you could point it out the man made an odd wheezing noise. Geralt moved closer and then stepped back quickly as he spat up blood, body convulsing until it stopped. His head fell to the side, eyes empty and a stream of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Gods…” you whispered. Geralt scowled at the body and then at the other two around you.

“What do we do with the bodies?” Jaskier asked, far calmer than you felt but you heard the slight crack in his voice as he spoke. Again you were grateful for the glimpse of vulnerability that helped you feel less alone in your fear. It was also good that this wasn’t a normal occurrence. For the bard, anyway. Geralt was unaffected, mostly seeming confused and ponderous rather than shaken by the near death experience, much less the actual deaths witnessed.

“We leave them. We don’t have time to dig graves. With luck the animals will get to them before any guards find them,” Geralt answered. Jaskier nodded and then moved his boot, reaching down to pick up the dagger he’d moved aside.

“Don’t touch that!” Geralt snapped just before Jaskier’s fingers brushed against the flat of the blade.

“I was just going to look at it!” Jaskier cried, stepping back as Geralt ran towards it. He picked it up with a gloved hand and you moved closer to look. You could see that the blade was colored in an odd way, tinged with something opaque.

“Poison,” Geralt said. His eyes found yours before he spoke again, “Someone knows you’re alive.”

Your heart leapt to your throat and you focused on trying to regulate your breathing as Geralt moved some paces away and buried the dagger. Jaskier walked over to you and his hand found yours again, the warmth of his hand helping to soothe the trembling from your fingers.

“You saved my life,” you said, focusing on the soft blue of his eyes and trying to lose yourself in their depths, far, far away from the carnage around you and your attempted murder.

“I told you to trust us,” he said with a smile, “You were brilliant, too.”

“I didn’t say you were brilliant.”

“I said it for you,” he teased, a smirk playing about his lips for a moment before he grew serious again, “Truly, though. You held your head. Hell, you held them down!”

“I told you,” you said with a smug nod, “Spinning. I have the upper arm strength of an ox.”

“Do oxen have especially strong upper arms?” Jaskier asked. You opened your mouth to reply but Geralt walked up to you and you turned your attention to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You nodded and he glanced to Jaskier who nodded as well.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, “Quickly.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence and when Jaskier helped you up onto the rocky ledge into the mountain tunnel he kept your hand in his, a silent reassurance that you weren’t alone.  

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Love is Death

Early morning, before the sun came up and the song of birds filled the crisp mountain air, the women inhabitants of the small Tibetan village passed by the temple singing religious texts as they made the thirty minute walk to the stream to fetch the day’s water. The line of them was composed of girls as young as fourteen and women as old as eighty-four. Looking at them was like looking at the same woman through time.

The sound of a ringing bell stopped them in their tracks. For them, the bell symbolized Buddha's voice. It called for the protection of heavenly deities and equaled the sound of the Dharma, the entity or law which sustained the order of things in the universe.

They stopped their daily walk, lowered themselves, and bowed, the large wooden buckets still on their backs.

Within the inner courtyard of the temple, the ringing came from the clash of metal on metal, the collision of two swords in the predawn dark wielded by shadows. Their forms flowed like ghosts, only the small puff of the dust of the ground indicated that they still were subject to the laws of gravity.

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

When I talked to people about Chu Zihang, they would mention his stoic, emotionless appearance and tight rigorous way of life. They called him a robot. From when he woke up in the morning, to what he ate during the day, to the position of his body when he slept at night everything in his life was geared toward a singular goal

While he yielded and allowed people their personal preferences, when it came to his own choices, moving him was like trying to move an oak tree.

As I sparred with him, however, his precision, speed and efficiency evoked in my mind the professional violinist. He never never hit a wrong note. Motion and breath were in concert.  A thrust turned into a parry, a parry into a cut, as if following a score I couldn’t see but understood.

His sparring followed an internal logic. When I could follow it, I knew when to strike and when to retreat, keeping that precise distance that would allow me to reach him and prevent him from reaching me. Spinning like planets in orbit, I could feel our music and I smiled despite myself.

“Good.” He said, pausing as we separated. “You’ve improved.”

I leveled my sword at him. “That’s not a compliment coming from you.”

“I’ve been gone for months, and you’ve only gotten better.”

“That’s more like it.”

“I’m going to push you now.”

“Alright.”

Unlike Zihang, I hadn’t trained all my life to be a fighter. For Zihang, fighting was like breathing. Swinging a sword to him was like catching a fly in midair without looking. When he pushed, he broke out of the sheet music and became a jazz composer at the piano, banging out an improvisation that only he could follow.

My job was to turn off the classical music and try to keep up.

He shifted from the traditional Japanese swordplay, weaving strikes from Muy Thuy and kicks from Tae Kwon Do. His posture lured me in with the promise of the familiar steps we had just finished practicing, but it was a trap, always a trap. I examined how his open arm was a potential grapple, watched his feet to see where he might go and had to be prepared to be wrong. My heart pounded and my head filled with uncertainty.

There was no smiling now. He was no longer my dance partner. He was my enemy. He crowded me, eyes intently watching me, breaking down my every move into its component parts and precisely baffling my strategy before I could even move.

Frustrated, I kicked his instep, cut upward and forced him back, but he only retreated a single step, staying in range of Spider Fang’s sword point. I was going to go in for a thrust, but he was still there. I stopped millimeters before I could stab him in the chest, startling that he hadn’t moved out of the way like I expected.

A blow to my chest knocked me down, flat on my back, and I felt a sharp sting on my collarbone.

I opened my eyes, glaring at him. “What was that?! I could have killed you!”

“Probably the most important lesson you’re going to have to learn.” He stared down at me and offered his hand to help me up.

I felt at the sting and my fingertips came back red. “You want me to stab you?” I asked in disbelief.

I held up my bloody hand to him and he pulled me up. “Yes.” 

“That’s kind of ... not the point of sparring you know.” I gave a nervous laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“I know. But things are a little different now. Do you know why the Execution Department has a policy against couples going into battle together?”

“Because of the Greenland incident right? Something about that mission...” I said, holding my hand to my chest to slow the bleeding.

“That’s right. Anjou explained to me before our wedding. He said, ‘Love is the death of the dragonslayer.’“

We stood in the dark, talking in hushed tones. The temple would be waking up soon. The monks knew the secrets of the dragon clan of course, but we were unwilling to say too much lest the Gattusos somehow found their way here.

“Dragons can read the mind of a human to look for weaknesses. The first thing they hone in on by instinct is human love. It differs from their love, because their love is disposable. They’re willing to kill the people they love to get what they want. They understand that very few humans are willing to do that.”

“Anjou was willing to let me marry you because I killed Jormangandr, a dragon who turned herself into a human, followed me around since I was a boy, and made me love her.”

“Jormangandr took advantage of my feelings to the very end, trusting that, if she appeared to be the person I had fallen in love with, I would allow her to kill me. I played along.”

Zihang stepped forward, wrapped his arm around me in a hug, while I stood stiffly, restraining my taut emotions. The point of a blade against my back made me gasp. “I offered to hug her, just like this.”

The tip of the knife, the one I didn’t know he had hidden on himself, made my skin itch. “She fell for it. She was overconfident. She thought she knew that this was her opportunity to land a fatal blow. Because she knew by now that I loved her. So she hugged me. I stabbed her and she died... very painfully. I had to listen to her screaming, hold her as she struggled.”

I took a deep breath, taking in his scent. I hugged him back.

He kept the tip of the blade against my back even as he kissed the top of my head. “If I hadn’t... I wouldn’t be here. And neither would the world as we know it.”

“You nailed Susie to the floor... knowing who she was..." I said.

“You need to be able to kill me. Or I can’t take you with me, Meixiu. That mindless monster on the boat knew enough to try to use me as a shield against you. We’re going up against someone who can alter memories, peer into our hearts and see our deepest desires. It isn’t a matter of if.”

“You’ll kill me if you have to, right?” I asked him.

“Yes.” 

I raised my head to look up at him. He lifted his hand and ran his thumb down my cheek. 

“Then its only fair. That way, only one of us has to die.” I said.

“It’s easy to say. Let’s go again.” He let me go and walked away, lifting Tongzi against me.

“If I’m going to kill you, I’m not going to use this.” I turned the hilt of Spider Fang to him.

He lowered his sword and walked up to me to take the sword. Instead, I pulled the spear of light from the latent energy of the Chaos in the Void. It dazzled in the dark, lighting my face, giving off a soft hiss.

My heart quivered as I faced him, my expression sad. It wasn’t even the real thing, and yet it was. If I didn’t have a killing intent, then Zihang would view this spar as unsuccessful and wouldn’t let me go with him.

“I will kill you,” I said, feeling the tears rise. “I have to trust you not to die!”

I moved faster than the eye could follow. My spear left a blackened mark on the dirt where he stood but he was no longer there. 

The spear turned and chased him.

Tongzi, the Alchemy long knife, could actually withstand the powerful energy in the Chaos Spear enough for it to repel. Zihang used it, smacking the tip of the spear away from his face. 

One was not enough to kill him. 

I summoned another to my side and sent it after him. They hovered, pointing at him from left and right. He held still, his ears listening. I squinted at him and decided on left first, since I was right handed. 

The left spear dove in and the right followed quickly. Zihang moved back, raising the blade to parry them both. The spears bent around the blade and kept their trajectory. He jumped high enough to clear an eight foot fence and they followed him, one upward, the other anticipating where he would land.

He twisted in mid air and dodged them both.

I hissed and summoned a third after him. 

He spun like a top striking all three.

The more I summoned, the harder they were to control. While two would move, aiming at his head and heart, the third would lag behind, forgotten in my mind until I gave it instructions.

Zihang immediately picked up on this. As soon as I attacked, one spear in front, the other behind, he dove behind the motionless third, using it as his own defense!

The Chaos spears of light collided and sent a shockwave through the courtyard.

I saw an opening. I summoned another, remotely, near to him. Sound was his only warning. He lashed out with Tongzi to stop it and the spear wrapped up the blade like a serpent. He dropped it and rolled away.

Were we done? I didn’t know. He didn’t say we were.  I summoned a spear high in the air above him, a pinpoint of light, out of sight and then I summoned a dozen spears to ring him in a tight circle to keep him from moving.

In my mind, I gave the floating spear over head instructions to fall and let go of it, not altering the trajectory.

Zihang knew I couldn’t control all of these at once. He struck out at them, knocking two away and then turned to look for an attack from behind that didn’t come. I saw the flash of the whites of his eyes.

He looked up and I closed my eyes tightly shut. Everything in me screamed to stop the attack to vanish the spear coming down on him. My heart burned, the fire spreading to every limb. 

A blast of intense heat was like a sunburn on every patch of skin not protected by clothing. I opened my eyes. “Zihang!”

The ground was smoldering, the dust black and sparkling with hot embers where he had been. I looked around until I saw him, pushing himself up from the ground to sit up.

I ran to him, collapsing into his arms, sobbing. “Are you okay? Did I hit you?”

“You came very close.” His shirt was split open, the skin underneath bleeding in a straight line.

Gasping, I covered my mouth with my hand.

He chuckled. “Sword of Damocles?”

“Yes...” I whimpered.

“You used Susie’s technique... the ring of blades.” He nodded once. He looked at my face, the tears there. He had to see how much I was trembling, like I would shake myself apart. If he hadn’t used Royal Fire to propel himself away, he would have died instantly.

The lights came on all over the temple and people were shouting.

He stood up, bringing me with him. I leaned against him. “Okay... let’s go... this probably woke up Ru’Yi.”

[creative-type]

Guess who wrote about Chopper keeping Zoro alive after Thriller Bark...again

Title: The Good Fight Rating: G Word Count: 2230 AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23204785

Sixteen hours of surgery. Ten pints of blood. Countless stitches and the devil’s own luck. That’s what it took to keep Zoro alive after the battle of Thriller Bark.

Chopper laid his head down against Zoro’s bed, listening with a clinician's ear to the beep of the heart monitor, the steady drip of the IV, the rasp of each shallow breath. If he strained hard enough he thought he could hear the rapid, thready beat of Zoro’s heart, but he knew it was his imagination. He’d stabilized his patient, somehow. Brought his heart back into rhythm and sewed his eviscerated organs back into place. Zoro’s veins and arteries, the connective tubing that pumped his lifeblood from head to toe, were now attached to their proper ports instead of leaking immense volumes of fluid everywhere except where it was supposed to go.

If Chopper had the energy he would have cried. Instead he took a shuddering breath through a face full of linens and tried to keep his hooves from shaking.

Zoro claimed god didn’t exist, but Chopper had fought Death itself too many times not to believe in some higher power. He hadn’t lost... yet. But there had been too many close calls lately for him to believe things would get better anytime soon. Chopper was afraid to even think it, but this latest battle had been a near thing, with Zoro’s life in the balance.

Too near.

He didn’t mean to doze off sitting like that, leaning over his patient like some kind of watchdog, but he must have because when there was a soft rap of knuckles against his infirmary door Chopper jerked violently awake. The sudden motion was enough to tip his chair over backward, and it was all Chopper could do to avoid cracking his head against the ground. The last thing anyone needed now was to give himself a concussion.    

“Hey, Chopper, are you okay?”

Usopp popped his head in the doorway, then rushed in when he saw Chopper laying in a dazed heap on the floor. He helped him to his feet and righted the chair, then brushed off the front of Chopper’s shirt like an older brother who wanted to help but didn’t really know how. Once assured that Chopper wasn’t harmed turned his attention to Zoro.

“Is he…?”

Usopp left the question unfinished. There was still an ashen, unhealthy pallor to Zoro’s normally bronzed skin, the barest hint of blue at his lips visible beneath the oxygen mask. But his respirations were steady and his blood pressure stable, and that was more than Chopper could have said sixteen hours ago.

“Everything has gone as good as I could have hoped for. Better, even,” Chopper said.

“That’s great!” Usopp exclaimed. He wrapped Chopper in a tight hug and danced around in a wild circle. Even after being set back on the ground, it took Chopper longer than it should have for the room to stop spinning.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Usopp asked earnestly. “Everyone’s just starting to wake up, I think Sanji’s putting together a party. You should come out and eat something.”

Chopper shook his head. “I can’t. I need to know right away If he starts bleeding again, and with all the transfusions I need to be careful not to put him into fluid overload. Plus with all those open wounds there’s a huge risk for infection, and...and…”

He meant to say more. He needed to say more, for Usopp to understand that while Zoro was better, he was by no means well . But the harder he tried the more his tongue tied into knots. Chopper knew he wasn’t making any sense, which frustrated him even more , the emotion of it all building up within him with no valve for release.

Chopper let himself plop onto the floor before he exploded, sniffing piteously as his vision went unexpectedly fuzzy. Usopp blinked, body going lax as his usual bravado rushed out of him like Luffy after a gum-gum balloon.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Usopp knelt down and patted Chopper awkwardly on the back. “You did good. Maybe you need to take a nap or something.”

He faltered, his eyes going wide as saucers. “Wait, you’ve been up all this time? We were awake all night chasing zombies, and then that weird bear guy came and blew everything all to hell, and we found Zoro, and ohmygod you’ve been awake since before yesterday .”

“Zoro needed me,” Chopper said simply. “He still needs me.”

As if agreeing, Zoro groaned in his sleep, making a feeble attempt to scratch at the drain that kept his right lung from collapsing on itself under the weight of the blood and fluid in his pleural cavity. Chopper hurried over to sedate him, mentally running through the dosing calculations and praying that he wouldn’t drop his already-precarious blood pressure off of a cliff.

When Zoro was once again resting comfortably Chopper returned to his chair to document, jumping a little when he saw Usopp staring dumbfounded out of the corner of his eye. He’d forgotten anyone else was in the room.

“Y’know, I bet one of Lola’s crew is a doctor,” Usopp said. “Maybe I could go ask--”

“Zoro is my responsibility!” Chopper said shrilly. “I can’t trust Zoro with some random doctor I’ve never met! If something happens I need to be here, because if I’m not I...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I mean, I guess,” Usopp said, defeated. “But  Zoro wouldn’t want you to run yourself ragged, either. What if you’re too tired and make a mistake?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Chopper said stubbornly, even as statistics of the effects of sleep deprivation rolled through his mind unbidden.

“I won’t lose him,” Chopper said, more quietly. Except the won’t came out sounding a whole lot more like can’t , and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It made the fur on his face feel funny, and Chopper concentrated on that instead of the pitying expression on Usopp’s face.

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t, not without being a doctor. Chopper’s fight started when Zoro’s stopped, and it was up to him to make sure that his efforts, whatever they were, hadn’t been in vain.

A normal person would have died taking half of the punishment Zoro had. Even a fourth would have been crippeling. Yet Zoro stood tall, so much blood slicking his skin that it was a wonder he had any left inside. Usopp couldn’t know the look Zoro had given him right before falling unconscious, the faint smile of relief as he realized it was finally okay to let go, because his doctor was there to keep fighting the battle he had no right winning.

“Chopper?” Usopp asked, startling him back to his senses. There was something in his expression, hesitant and a little frightened, that made Chopper think it hadn’t been the first time he called his name.

“Hmn?”

“You did your part. Now let us do ours.”

The thing about Usopp was that he wasn’t afraid to play dirty, and when it was clear that Chopper had no intentions of listening to him, he went and found Robin.

Not that she looked much better than Chopper felt. Having her shadow forcibly stolen from her had taken its toll, and of all the Straw Hats she was the one he trusted to assist with surgery when he was unable to manage on his own. She had stayed until Chopper was reasonably sure Zoro would pull through, but only after making Chopper promise to call if he needed assistance once more.

But Chopper hadn’t needed assistance, at least not as much as Robin needed rest, so he had plowed on, breaking through his second, third, forth wall of fatigue through caffeine tablets and sheer force of will.

“Your hands are shaking,” Robin observed. She had a bottle of water with her that she handed to Chopper, fixing him with a look until he sheepishly took a drink. Chopper could see Usopp’s shadow in the doorway of the infirmary, whispering fiercely to Sanji and Nami.

Robin noticed his gaze and shut the door before kneeling down to his level. “I know it can be...difficult, at times, to ask for help. But we all have limits, and you have long-past yours.”

She pressed a hard candy into his hooves. “Sanji will be in shortly with a proper meal, but this should hold you over till then.”

“But if something happens--”

“I will wake you,” Robin said. “Nami is getting your bedding now, so you can rest here with Zoro. You don’t have to leave him if you don’t want to.”

All the air left Chopper in a rush. “Oh.” He unwrapped the candy and let it melt on his tongue, even that small amount of sugar boosting his dangerously low levels. When was the last time he had eaten?

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You are exhausted,” Robin said matter-of-factly. Then, with a note of reproach in her tone, “You cannot treat anyone if you do not take care of yourself.”

Before Chopper could argue there was a knock at the door. Sanji swept in, and foregoing his usual praise set a tray down at Chopper’s feet. There was a steaming bowl of cinnamon and sugar rice, milk, more water, and a cookie. Out of deference to Chopper’s patient, the cigarette that hung from his lips was unlit.

“Those shithole zombies took our food supply, and I haven’t had much luck raiding theirs,” Sanji said apologetically. “Looks like most went to feeding that great shithead Oars.”

Chopper nodded. Luffy’s appetite was bad enough on its own, but in the body of a giant it was nearly insatiable. “Thank you.”

The smell alone made Chopper’s mouth water, and he ate with mechanical efficiency, scarcely tasting the food before shoving the next spoonful into his mouth. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and the rice settled like a lead block in the pit of his stomach. His limbs felt heavy as he drank the rest of the water and his eyes burned with lack of sleep.

While he ate Nami came in with a pillow and blanket, but Chopper ignored it in favor of curling up in Robin’s lap. “Lemme know if his heart rate goes up and his blood pressure down, or if he wakes up, or if...if…”

“Hush, now,” Robin said, placing a calming hand against his back. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard someone start to sing, but he couldn’t place the voice.

It sounded nice, Chopper thought, and he hoped he’d get to hear it again when he woke up.

Chopper woke up entangled in a pile of limbs and blankets. He blinked against the light of the infirmary, realizing somewhat befuddledly that his hat was not sitting on his head. His eyes were sleep-crusted and his throat was dry and he kinda had to go to the bathroom, but Chopper did not move. For some reason, he didn’t want to.

The smell of blood hit first and hardest. Somehow Chopper squirmed enough to get himself turned around and looking directly up at the bed were Zoro currently lay.

And if he was looking up that meant he had to be laying down . It took another long moment for his brain to reboot itself back to waking, and only then did Chopper realize he was on the floor and surrounded by Straw Hats. His head still lay in Robin’s lap while she herself was sitting up against the wall of the infirmary, and it was Nami’s arm that was currently wrapped around his torso. Sanji lay curled up on top of the blanket haphazardly thrown across Chopper’s legs, effectively pinning him to the ground.

Usopp and Luffy (when had he come in?) were on the other side of Robin, sprawled and taking every last bit of space, while Franky sat in Chopper’s tiny chair with his head rested against his massive forearms.

They were all here. They were all alive. Chopper took a deep breath, feeling it catch in the back of his throat.

Music came in through the doorway, a smooth caress to Chopper’s soul.

Maybe Luffy was right, and they’d gone too long without a musician. Hopefully he would find one soon, Chopper would like to study the therapeutic effects of music on the crew…

He drifted back into a deep and dreamless slumber.

The Straw Hats threw a party, as they always did after their biggest and hardest battles. Chopper still didn’t trust Zoro to leave him alone, and Luffy wouldn’t allow Chopper to miss out on the fun, so they arrived at the festivities together. Patient and doctor. Big and little brother. Crewmates.

Friends.

Chopper won this round, but deep down he was still afraid. Afraid that each success would encourage Zoro to greater recklessness, afraid that someday he’d go a step too far and Chopper wouldn’t be able to bring him back. Afraid that he wouldn’t make it in time.

But that was the thing about the Straw Hat Pirates, they trusted one another. Just like Chopper believed there was no one Zoro could not defeat, Zoro believed there was no injury he could not fix. That’s what it meant to be the greatest doctor in the world.

Chopper could only hope that he was right.

From across the room Brook began to play a round of Bink’s Sake. Beside him, Chopper’s small hoof nestled into his hand, Zoro smiled in his sleep.  

[chlodani]

This is my next smau. It's a Harry Potter smau. Neville X F.!Reader pairing. There's a bit of Fred X F.!Reader pairing in here. There's also Neville X Fred X F.!Reader. Title:A Muggle's Love Story

Trigger warning: Slight swearing! Mentions of sex! Will be mentions of rape! Slight abuse! If you are sensitive to these things read at your own risk!

Y/n was a muggle brought into the world of magic, at a very young age. She didn't know how to handle it. And with her older sister, her guardian being the only one who could take care of her, it proved to be difficult for her with her sister being the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor, and her having to live in the world of magic. She feels a little left out, seeing as both her sisters, her older and her younger, - her twin - are wizards and she is not. But that all disappears when she meets the one person who helped her realize not everything is about that. And it's not all its cracked up to be. Neville was there for her since she was young and they became the best of friends. However, as they got older they realized their feelings were more for each other than they even orginally thought. But what happens when Neville finally has the courage and another man tries to swoop in and take him from her?

Beginning Special Edition Part 18. . .

Fred's P.O.V.

I couldn't look away from Y/n as she lay motionless on the hospital bed. Neville was on the other side of her, looking down at the floor. He didn't want anyone to know he had been crying or that he was crying. Though I've known him as long as I've known Y/n. Despite waiting for Y/n to choose between us, Neville is still one of my best friends and that is because of Y/n. Though even though Y/n hasn't made her decision between me and Neville yet, I think she has already decided to choose Neville. Which I'm okay with. All I want is for Y/n to be happy. Right now all I want is for her to be okay. I sighed as I looked at Y/n. I softly took her hand in mine. All I can think of is, what would've happened if I'd gotten there sooner than I did? Would I have been able to stop him from attacking her? Would I have been able to protect her? Then again Im not too sure I would've been able to control myself if anyone had tried attacking her in front of me. George walked back into the room and over to me. He was carrying a bag from me and Y/n's favorite restaurant, Sandwich Palace, and had a drink carrier with three drinks. He walked over to the side I was on, sitting in the chair he previously sat in.

"Freddie, I brought you and Neville some food," George said to me.

"Thanks Georgie, but Im not hungry," I told him.

"Neither am I," Neville spoke up.

"I know how you guys must be feeling, But you havent eaten in two days. You haven't had anything to drink in two days. Im worried about you Freddie," George said to me with concern.

"Im sorry Georgie, but all I can think about is Y/n," I said to my brother.

"I understand Fred, but how do you think Y/n would feel about you two not taking care of yourselves, she'd want you to eat and make sure you guys were okay," George told us.

Neville and I both sighed.

"She's right Fred, what would Y/n say to us both right now?" Neville asked me.

"Probably tell you both to stop being a stubborn ass and eat the food George bought for you," George spoke.

"Yeah," I stated softly.

George handed me the sandwich and the soda he bought for me.

"Thanks George," Neville said to him as he handed Neville what he bought for him.

Neville and I both sighed as we slowly began to eat. I know George is right. Y/n would be yelling at us for not taking care of ourselves. And knowing her she'd probably smack us both. Thats one of the things I love so much about her. How caring she is.

"Guys! -"

Jami rushed back into the room. Rushing back over standing next to Neville.

"Has she woken up yet?" Jami asked almost in a state of panic.

"No change," Neville responded softly.

Jami was quiet for a minute as she looked at me and Neville.

"I see you two are finally eating," she said to us a bit surprised.

"Yeah," was all I said.

"Thanks to me," George added.

Jami looked directly at George.

"And how did you swing that one?" She asked him.

"I told them that Y/n would want them to take care of themselves, and that she'd kick both of their asses if they didnt eat soon," George responded.

Jami chuckled with tears in her eyes.

"Yeah, thats my sister for you. She cares for Fred and Neville a lot and thats all she wants for them is to be taken care of, - She's stubborn - And she's strong - She'll make it out of this," Jami spoke trying to reassure herself.

Her, Neville, and I all sighed once more as we looked at Y/n. I held her hand a little tighter while Neville grabbed hold of her other hand. Why wasnt I there to protect her?

Sometime later that same day. . .

Neville's P.O.V.

At the moment Fred and I were the only ones in the room. Adelina texted me not that long ago to find out if Y/n had woken up. I told her no, but she told me that if she does wake up, not to tell her that she went out looking for the guy that attacked her. She wouldnt tell me much else, just that she was going out to find him. I tried to talk her out of it, but as we all know, you cant talk Adelina Sweetdove out of anything. Once she has something set in her mind to do, she doesn't give up until its done. Colby took Jami home, without her wanting to leave, so she could get some rest. Adelina asked both me and Fred to stay here and protect Y/n, just in case her attacker showed back up. And also to make sure that Y/n stays here - that is if she wakes up. My stomach was spinning in a thousand circles. I honestly felt like throwing up. I didnt know if she was gonna wake up and I was scared to death that she wouldn't. If I had've gone home with her like I planned, none of this would've happened. I could've protected her. Im honestly hoping that she chooses me. I know how much she loves me. She proved it the other night in my apartment. I know she's already made her decision. And I know she loves Fred and I have nothing against him. I just dont know what I'd do without her. And if she did decide for Fred over me, I guess I'd have to be okay with it. All I want is for Y/n to be happy. I couldnt look away from her. As a tear trickled from my eye, I held her hand a little tighter. My heart jumped when I felt her squeeze my hand. Fred and I both looked at her. She must've done the same to him, seeing as he was holding onto her other hand.

"Hey guys, why the long faces?" Y/n asked us casually as if nothing had happened and she was just waking up from a long nap.

I couldnt say anything as I looked at her do to shock.

"Y/n!" Fred exclaimed before quickly leaning down, pressing their lips together, holding her in a passionate kiss.

At that moment all I wanted to do was kick his ass. Y/n honestly didn't know how to react as he leaned back.

"Sorry," Fred spoke as he looked at me.

I closed my eyes for a split second as I took in a soft breath. I felt Y/n take my hand softly.

"Hey, Neville, I know you're still here and there's something I'd like to speak with both of you about," Y/n spoke as she pulled me a little closer to the bed.

Fred and I both knew exactly what she wanted to say. My heart started to race a thousand times faster. Fred moved his chair closer to the bed as did I. Fred still had hold of her other hand.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this. Not here, not now. You just woke up," Fred told her in a soft soothing voice.

"No, Fred, I have to do this, - While I was asleep I've had a lot of time to think, and I think I've made you two wait long enough -"

Both Fred and I took in a soft breath. Y/n looked directly at Fred and I thought I was done for.

"Fred, you are an amazing guy. You're sweet, kind, caring, considerate, you have a love for pretty much anything. You're protective and you've always cared about my problems. I love you, I know I've always loved you since that day in your fourth year when we spent the entire day together, just me and you. And you made the ice in the frozen lake, represent a heart of our friendship. I now know that you were trying to tell me you liked me back then, but you couldn't exactly find the right words. And the times we've had together have been the best times of my life, especially when you've been there for me, when I needed someone. However, I'm close to Neville to and - my heart belongs to him, -"

My stomach dropped a thousand feet. Fred took in a soft deep breath.

"I'm sorry Fred, I'll always love you, -"

"Dont be sorry sweetheart, I understand and I told you I would understand if you chose Neville, and that all I want is for you to be happy. I know Neville will make you happy. And Im still your best friend," Fred told her calmly.

I was honestly surprised. And still shocked. But also very happy. Fred hugged Y/n, leaving a soft kiss to her cheek. I smiled as I sat next to her on the bed. I couldnt help myself as I locked our fingers together. She smiled at me softly.

"So, where's Adelina?" She asked us.

Fred and I didnt say anything. We tried to avoid conversation as we looked away from her. She was very suspicious as she looked at us.

"Guys?" She asked again.

"Y/n!!"

Jami dropped the two bottles of water on the floor as she looked at her sister. Jami ran over to the bed, practically throwing herself at Y/n. Y/n chuckled as she hugged her tightly.

"Geez, you guys act like I wasnt going to wake up," Y/n spoke with amusement.

Jami hugged her tighter.

"We were afraid you weren't going to," Jami told her.

"Ah, come on guys, you know me, Im stronger than that," She told us.

I couldnt stop the smile that came to me. Jami leaned back from her. I brought her hand to my lips, kissing it softly.

"Of course you are beautiful," I said to her.

She smiled softly at me. I missed her gorgeous, beautiful smile. She is everything Ive ever dreamed of. I love her with my entire being.

"Jewel, maybe you can answer this question for me, where is Adelina?" Y/n asked her.

"Uh, Im not exactly sure where she went, but she said she was going to go out to take care of something. And she'd try to be back later," Jami answered her casually.

A scared look crossed her face.

"Oh no she didn't, - Thats it -"

Y/n threw the blanket off of her, and tried to get up. Fred and I both quickly stopped her as we were instructed to.

"Guys, if you dont let go of me right now, I'll be doing a whole lot more than just kicking your asses, - Now let me go," she said to us in a demanding tone.

"Not until you promise to sit back," I told her.

"I can't Neville, I have to protect my sister," she spoke out.

"She'll be fine Y/n, you know how your sister is. Trust me, she wants you safe and right now the safest place for you is with us," Fred told her.

She grunted in annoyance and irritation as she laid back.

"Oh, Y/n you're awake, -"

We looked to see Dumbledore as he walked into the room.

"Albus where's Adelina?" Y/n asked him in a quick panic.

"Don't worry about her Y/n. She is safe, -"

"But she went after him, how can she be safe?!"

"I have my best professor looking after her. She will return safely, I promise, - And congratulations Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore spoke walking closer to the bed.

Its almost as if he knew about Y/n's decision. How does he do that?

To be continued. . .

Taglist:

@cece-lives-here

@saur20

[writtenfan]

The Zora Prince & His Champion

Prince Sidon X Reader

Summary: You were always the champion of Hyrule...you've defeated Calamity Ganon and experienced a world of absolute adventure meeting many along the way and experienced great trials and tribulations...Now that things were quieter you hardly expected such another adventure! 

(A cute short little moment...Oh dear, he's adorable isn’t he!)

“AHA!” A voice sang-shouted from out of nowhere.

You stopped in your tracts, in the middle of the bridge and ran to the railing almost tripping over in anticipation as you stagger to grab the rail and lean down overlooking nothing, but clear open water sparkling in the sun's rays. The jingling of your Gerudo attire’s jewelry against your chest and forehead. Your (h/c) hair peeking from the smooth and soft blue hood and cloth covering your face and your head.

After waiting for only a second the water erupted below you and you flung yourself back but not avoiding being pelted by water as the figure lept out of the water and landed with a thud behind you. Still blinded from the water as it trailed down your face and caused your hair and hood to droop down. You wiped your face frantically with your sleeve and turned around, to view the rising yet still blurry tall form of Zora Prince, Sidon.

Just as your vision cleared, you saw him bound towards you and they held you with such strength as he lifted you off the ground in a hug that restricted your arms against your sides.  

You let out a choking sound as he smooched you against his damp chest rocking you back and forth.

“OH CHAMPION I KNEW IT WAS YOU!” He moves his hands grabbing you from under your sore shoulders and holds you in front of him like a cat, your expression a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

His eyes look you up and down intensely his eyes scrunched in focus then widened in astonishment.

“You look so very different…”  he cocks his head and gives you a wide sharp-toothed grin “You look just as nice as you do normally my champion!” He says.

You were so glad you had the cloth over the lower have of your face because you were blushing and couldn’t hide the smile.

“Were you heading over to the Zora Domain?” He asks still holding you like a limp cat as if it was normal.

You tell him, yes and the fin on his head does a little wag before he swings you around towards the other end of the bridge towards his kingdom still holding you tightly.

“WERE YOU COMING TO SEE ME Y/N? OR IS THERE SOMETHING MORE DIRE AT HAND?!” 

 He shouts beginning merrily and then ending the sentence seriously as he pulls you close trying to see if the sense of danger was on you face.

You say everything was just fine and ask Sidon politely if he could let you down as his claws were now pointing your skin uncomfortably, and you swore he was crushing your ribcage.

“Oh!” He sets you down gently, and the drop felt like you were going down on a paraglider it was so far from the ground.

“I’m sorry (y/n), I got too excited… are you alright?” He raises your arms individually checking your underarms and your sides and you let me reluctantly rolling your eyes with a smile.

“You look fine! Of course you are! You are a strong and mighty warrior!”

Sidon steps back and rubs the back of his head bashfully. His teeth gleaming in the sunlight…He then studies you with his eyes again… his eyes trail down to your midsection.

After watching him stare at your body for more than a minute, you make a smug grin and gesture a finger up towards your eyes playfully with a hand on your hip and you watch him blush in response and stare off into the distance behind you trying to avoid your gaze.

“I’m so very sorry, (y/n)! You truly have the body of a warrior, I was appreciating how to fit you are, as you see…”

He raises his arm and flexes with a grin. “...You never cease to amaze me my champion!” You blush and turn around to hide it and as soon as you do you feel a hand place itself on your shoulder.

“Come! Let us head back together! I do hope you’re staying for a while, It seems like forever since we last saw each other my champion!”

You nod with a grin and he keeps his hand on your shoulder and you two walk off the other side of the bridge before he stops you.

“How about we take the water route? You can ride on my back again! I’m sure you can hold on after what you went through that time!” You agree and he turns around, you hoist yourself on his back which he helps with, after making sure you were secure he stood up fully and looked off the cliff edge.

“Let's be off my love!” he sang.

This phrase was unexpected, but you didn’t have time to process it before you stomach lurches as he jumped into the air, you pressed your face against his back and hold your breath as you felt you both submerge underwater for only a second only to resurface and speed through the lake, the water splashing you gently. You watched the sights blaze past you and the water rushing across your waist and submerged feet, your arms holding onto his shoulders tight. 

A smile was plastered on his face, and his gaze was focused on his path.

You ask him about how he was doing…

“I've been absolutely great my champion, I’ve been making sure my people are happy and healthy, fulfilling requests of my father whenever needed!”

His smile widened as tilted his head looked at your face.

“I've been kept busy but feel as if I have a long way to go before I become strong like you, champion… but I know that I can get there!”

He gives you a thumbs up before rising into the air in a huge arch causing you to slam against his back and wrap your arms around his lower chest for dear life. You feel him tense up as your fingers press themselves against him and he chuckles nervously as he continues to maneuver the waters.

“Ive missed you quite a lot (y/n…)I hope I don’t… annoy you with how proud I am of you…”. Your face leans against his back as his speed quickens listening to this soothing voice.”

“You are quite the (man/woman)…“ he clears his throat “...Hyrulean... I see what my sister saw in you…It is very clear…”

Your fingers tighten in a hug.

“I- I know you may have loved my sister a lot…even though…I don’t believe it was the same way she felt about you…” The sun fell on his back the water droplets shining in its rays.

“But…I do know you cared for her deeply…but perhaps…”

You saw the entrance to the Zora Domain but were focused on Sidon’s words alone. “You..care for me as well…differently…I hope?”

Suddenly two Zora guards popped from under the water at Sidon‘s sides trailing behind him unable to keep up with his speed.

“Hello, Champion!”

“Hello (y/n)!”

Hey shouted to you, 

“Welcome back my prince!” they both said in unison.

You wave to them both and open your mouth to answer Sidon but your cut short by the sudden leap he made onto the marble landing that was now in front of you, the two guards followed. He stood upright for a moment, you still grasping onto him, the guards looking at you with an embarrassed smile. Making you bashfully, slide off him.

He slowly turns around towards you, his height making you feel queasy in a good way. You tried to resist staring at him the way he did you back at the bridge by focusing intensely at his yellow eyes.

“I hope you understand what I mean… champion” he says, his voice a tad bit calmer than It was usually, as there was more emotion behind it.

“I hope my sister… can forgive me for my feelings… but I feel…” his eyes stare back at the water you two both exited.

The guards behind you now, carefully made their leave blushing hard at what they had heard.

“… I feel as if she… could. I hope she understands that…” Sidon suddenly leans down on one foot, his eyes closer to your eyes yet still towering you slightly.

“I can’t help but fall in love with the (man/woman) I see before me…”

With that, you raise your hand to the side of his face which he grasps and presses against him harder.

The texture of his face, was so interesting, almost lacking any type of wetness even though you just both got out of the water, it was…a tad bit rubbery…a bit cold but still warm.

His red and white figure was intimidating yet soothing, his muscles defined and his stature, of course, huge.

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable (y/n…) please tell me if I’m doing so…I do hope we can still be friends if you do not wish to be something more than that. My partner. You may call it..”

You take off your mask and cowl and your wet hair flops against your face. You show him your smile and you say that you would like to be closer to him in such a way.

With your answer, his teeth shown in a glimmering huge grin, his eyes filled with happiness even he did not show before.

“OH HOW YOU MAKE ME SO THRILLED MY CHAMPION!

 “I promise to you that I will always be by your side!” 

He then swoops you up in his arms and you both spin around in a circle laughing.

“I will protect you my champion! I will do whatever it takes to make sure your happy and feel welcome, always, in my kingdom. Come!” He sets you down gently and holds onto your hand tightly, covering it entirely.

“I must tell my father that we’ve started a relationship! Oh, won’t he be pleased!”

With that, both of you walk into the throne room and start a whole new adventure of your own...

[leelee10898]

Party in the USA

Hey guys, It's @leelee10898.Ive been MIA from CGW for a while, I miss it so much.. In light of the 4th of July, ive thrown together some squad shenanigans for ya!! I tried my damndest to get this finished yesterday, but no luck... I did a super fast edit, so im sorry, but this shit is gonna be flawed lol.. enjoy.

The Royal Jett touched down in Dulles international airport as the girls squealed in their seats. It was 4th of July weekend and they were excited to share it with their men, since not one of them had ever celebrated the extremely patriotic American Holiday.  "Nothing says 4th of July like celebrating in our nation's capital." Anitah beamed as she stepped off the plane, joining the group who already exited. "Well, you're the queen of Cordonia now, she is your Nation now Love." Liam grinned as he kissed her cheek. "Um no offense Liam, but this will always be our nation." Alicia butted in. "Yeah, 'Merica!" Genevieve pumped her fist. "Merica?" Liam whispered to Drake "yeah. Short for America. Just, go with it Li." Drake shook his head. Pam laughed at her friends "ok Ladies, how about we get settled and go find something to get into."

They opted to rent a house instead of a hotel so they could grill and chill the proper way. "Oh shit, there's a pool, I can't even wait to jump in that later." Alicia smirked as she winked at Leo. "Clothing optional love?" He smirked as Liam rolled his eyes. "Why are you two always naked every trip we take?" Liam huffed as the two shrugged. "Well, we could just start right now." Leo began tugging at his shorts.  "NO!" the group resounded. "Hey guys, I seen a huge fireworks tent down the street. We should go check it out." Maxwell walked outside where the group had converged, a glass of purple liquid in hand. "Maxwell, what do you have there?" Drake eyed him suspiciously. "Just some punch." He shrugged, giving the girls a look.

One by one the girls made their way inside sneaking drinks of maxwell's punch. Once they reached a nice buzz they decided to venture off into DC. They watched a parade, sampled some summertime staples including funnel cake and deep fried oreos. There was a carnival being held and they would have a fireworks display at night fall. "Oh! The zipper. I loved that ride."  They eyed the caged ride "how's your tummy feeling Gen?" Pam gave her a look. "It's good, let's do this shit!"

"Are you sure darling? This doesn't look safe." Rashad voiced his concern.  "Psh, safe shamafe. This shit is indestructible,it's probably like 40 years old." Anitah snorted.

"Yeah because everyone wants to ride a 40 year old death trap. No thanks Brooks." Drake held up his hands and shook his head. "Its ok Drake, I think the ferris wheel is calling our names." Pam winked at her husband,  who then adjusted his pants.

Rashad looked at Genevieve, and then to the zipper swallowing audibly she took his hand and led him towards the ride. "It's gonna be ok Rashad.  Do it for America." She smiled at him.

Maxwell had already been strapped in the seat and moved up Liam and Anitah also already on the ride in a cart halfway up. "Ok this doesn't seem to bad love." Liam leaned back as they slowly made their way up letting others on. "Oh it's great. Just wait until we really get going." She smirked. Liam arched his brow "what does that mean,my queen?"

"So how does this work exactly?" Leo asked Alicia. "Well, we basically go around in a circle, and flip upside down, a lot. You don't have a weak stomach do you Leo?"

"No. I can handle it. Liam on the other hand, he's going to puke or scream. Maybe both." He chuckled. "My money's on both.  Anitah is going to laugh at him." Alicia giggled.

"You know Love, thing we haven't done yet." He gave her the signature Rhys smirk "oh. Shit. Leo." She jerked as she felt his long fingers slip between her legs.

"Gen, love. I'm not so sure about this. Why does it move like that?" Rashad began to panic. "It's supposed to move like that. Just calm down,  it's gonna be so much fun." She patted his leg. "It's supposed to sound like it needs 4 quarts of oil on the rickety old Metal?" Genevieve let out a high pitched squeal. "This is going to be so much fun. If you piss your pants, I will laugh at you." Suddenly the ride jerked and picked up speed, their cart reached the top as it flipped over. Rashad let out a long girlish scream as they plummeted upside down towards the ground.

"Oh my god. Oh my god im gonna diiiiie." Liam screamed as Anitah laughed uncontrollably.  She wasn't sure if it was the thrill of the ride, or Liam's girlish screams but she was definitely enjoying herself. "Oh god. Noooooo. Help me!" He screamed again, joining Rashad in fear stricken symphony.

The ride came to an end Liam ran to the nearest trash can, head inside as he puked.  "Told you he would puke." Leo laughed as Anitah stood next to her husband, giving him a sympathetic pat on the back as the other hand gave him bunny ears for a photo.

A dizzy Rashad stumbled off the ride "see baby. That wasn't so bad." Genevieve looked at Rashad who was pale faced. "That was." He retched  "I just…" His hand flew over his face as he bolted towards the trash can next to Liam.

"Looks like those two couldn't handle the ride huh?" Drake snorted as he and Pam approached the group. "Nope. Hey how come you two didn't ride? Scared Drake?" Alicia teased.  "He wasn't scared. We just, had other plans." Pam blushed as Drake pulled her into his side. "Why are your pants unbuttoned?" Anitah questioned, before going wide eyed in realization. "How about we go back to the house, and get this party started." Leo Spoke up.

"For once, I agree with my brother.  I've had enough of this." Liam spit into the trash can. "Wait. Where's Maxwell?"

"Maxwell.  Max." They called, and he didn't come. "He will find his way back. Lets just go." Drake took Pam's hand "Drake, were in Washington,  not Cordonia how's he going to find his way?" Anitah folded her hands across her chest. "He's like a damn puppy brooks. He will find his way home, now come on." Drake grunted as Anitah finally gave in.

Back at the house Drake and Leo ran to the store, returning a short while later with a few cases of beer and some liquor and wine. Still no sign of Maxwell. "I'm gonna call him." Alicia pulled her phone out and dialed his number, they heard it ringing inside.  "Looks like he left his phone behind." Rashad lifted the phone off the counter. "I hope he is ok. Maybe we should call the police?" Pam worried, it wasn't like Maxwell to stray so far from the group.

Finally Maxwell came sauntering in, hands full of bags.  "Maxwell!" Anitah shouted as she wrapped him in a hug "where the hell have you been?" She slapped his arm. "Ouch, hey little blossom that hurt!" He rubbed his arm "I went to the fireworks tent. Look at all the cool stuff I got. "I'll be taking these." Drake reached out to grab the bags, Maxwell recoiled defensively, clutching the explosives to his chest. "No, these are mine. Don't take my toys away Drake."

"Maxwell, let me see what you have." Leo walked over sorting through the bag. "Um Maxwell,  most of these are illegal in DC. Where did you even get these?" Maxwell smiled, oh I took an Uber to Virginia. "Ok Maxwell. You can have these and these." Liam held him out a box of sparklers and some fountains.  "The rest, were putting up." He handed the bags to Bastian.

"Yeah, can you imagine Maxwell with a damn mortar? He would blow up the damn shed over there." Drake chuckled, and then shook his head.

The night went on, the group getting drunker by the minute.  Liam sat perched up on the steps of the pool, wearing American flag swim trunks and a stars and stripes bandana around his head. "Woooooo 'Merica!" He hollered as the group around him screamed " 'MERICA" back. Genevieve and Anitah danced on the picnic table in their skimpy bikinis, beers in hand. Alicia and Leo were busy in the corner. hands all over each other while Rashad and Maxwell played a game of washers.

"Hey, look what fell out of the bag." Pam beamed as she walked over with a small box. "The singing lotus?" Drake looked at it. "Huh. Looks like it plays the star spangled banner, when you light it." He pulled the content from the box and sat it on the patio next to the pool, carefully lighting the fuse and backing away.

The fireworks began to spin, sparks of red, gold and blue shot from the center while it played a very distorted version of the star spangled banner. "Oh my god. My ears, make it stop." Genevieve shouted as she held her hands over her ears.

Alicia stood up, momentarily stepping away from Leo and began to belt out the song.

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

Gen and Anitah stopped dancing, and began to sing along. Pam joining in as well.

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

"Play ball!" Anitah and Alicia said in unison. They looked at the burned out dilapidated flower. "Man that was a sad excuse for a firework. " drake mumbled "Just look at it." The group looked down at the melted heap of plastic and soot.

As the night went on and the sun went down, the group were pretty drunk. Pam and Drake disappeared into the pool shed, Anitah and Genevieve continued to dance and sing on the picnic table while Rashad and Liam looked on. Leo and Alicia ended up in the pool together,  while nobody noticed Maxwell had snuck off again. Anitah had convinced Liam to let her paint his face in the American Flag, so he just sat there arm slung over the chair, red white and blue face with a Budweiser in hand.

Rashad started to babble,  staring straight ahead. He made no sense whatsoever and the only thing he could do was point. "Rashad, what the hell are you trying to say. Spit it out." Genevieve snapped. Finally climbing down from the picnic table she stood in front of him waving her hands in front of his face "helllooooo?"  "Shiminag hemmeinah. Ah ma tha…" he babbled.

Suddenly a firework whizzed past Liam's head and exploded against the pool shed. "Run for cover." Liam screamed as he dove into the pool. Rashad still standing there dumbfounded Genevieve tried with all her might to pull him away, but he wouldn't budge. "I love you, but I don't feel like getting blown up." She yelled taking Anita's hand and jumping into the pool.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Pam snapped as she and a Drake stumbled out of the shed. Another firework crashed into the shed, pam screamed and ran into the pool. Drakes pants fell around his ankles as he tried to run,  he kicked them off and joined his wife in the pool.

Fireworks were flying dangerously low, explosions everywhere as Maxwell sensed the sudden danger and ran for cover under the porch. Alicia and Leo obvious to the Chao ensuing around them, continued to have sex in the corner of the pool. Alicia opened her eyes looking above her. "Leo. I see fireworks." She gasped. "I know baby. I have that effect. " she smirked as he thrust into her. "No, you ass. The fucking back yards a war zone." She tapped his shoulder, and pointed to the disaster area. Leo loomed around the pool, their friends and family screaming. Bastien on the phone with the fire company, deftly ducked under a bottle rocket headed straight for his head. "Beaumont,  when I get my hands on you." Bastien shouted. "Im sorry bas. I didn't mean to light all the fuses." Maxwell shouted back.

Dark smoke plummeted from the pool shed where Pam was giving Drake a blow job, just moments prior. "Hope they got insurance " Leo joked as he and Alicia swam up to the group. Liam rolled his eyes taking not of their nude forms.  "Where the hell are your clothes?" He held back a snicker. He wasn't three sheets to the wind drunk, he would have been more annoyed at the situation at hand.

"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave…" Alicia began to sing. "This again?" Drake rolled his eyes.  "Just sing along Walker." Pam kissed his lips.

"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!" The group sang along,  just as the fire company rushed in putting the shed out.

The following Monday Liam walked into the council meeting, shoulders back, head held high. The hushed whispers began to circulate the room as Liam cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?" After the meeting a young council member approached him. "Your majesty, please may I speak freely?" Liam nodded "of course Lord Nicholas. And its Liam."

"Liam. Why Is there a faded Flag on your face?" Liam hung his head and shook it, recalling the past weekend's antics. Sighing loudly, he lifted his head. "Nick. Have you ever been to America on the 4th of July?"

Tag List: @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @indiacater @ooo-barff-ooo @ownworldresident @tornbetween2loves @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @editboutique @wannabemc2 @zaffrenotes @enmchoices @lauradowning29 @lodberg @smalltalk88 @laniquelove-blog @gibbles82 @heatherfilliez @drakesensworld @nikkis1983 @sweetest-marbear @classylady1234 @daniv2278 @rainbowsinthestorm @jared2612 @liamxs-world @notoriouscs @blubutterflyy @captain-kingliamsqueen @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lynne1993 @coldcollectornight08 @be-still-my-aching-heart @kennaxval @the-soot-sprite @hopefulmoonobject @emichelle @cgd03 @kate-mckenzie @mfackenthal @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jemrmax2love @sashatrr @ao719 @cocomaxley @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom

[jadedjo]

2019 End of Year Fic Review

I am happy to say that I achieved 3 of my goals from last year. Compete Return to Endor and Crossing A Line and find a beta/alpha/cheerleader: The Fic Whining Circle helped me achieve all of this! I LOVE you guys!

But despite having written more last year than this year I take this year as a more creative journey. With the support and encouragement of people I look up to, I was able to broaden my horizons and stretch my creativity. But this also had its drawbacks. Namely, in the form of the White Rabbit (plot bunnies multiply when other creatives pass theirs on to you unintentionally)

2 White Rabbits that I chased this year were Apocalypse Yavin and the WIP Admiral Luke Au. They were not my ideas. They started as discussions from others that I ran with (with permission). So new goals for 2020 are to leave plot bunnies alone. I have more than enough projects that I do want to finish.

If any come across my path, I shall appreciate them but shall not fall down the rabbit hole. There was a post that came across my dash that said something along the lines of, you need to start x projects to find the 1 that will get done. So, if I need to drabble something to get it out of my head so be it but not let it balloon into the 50k or more that the Admiral Luke Au is turning into.

If anyone sees me chasing the White Rabbit be sure to pull me out of the Matrix STAT.

Goals for 2020:

I’m not sure what I want to accomplish next year. I have WIPs that I need to decide if I’m going to continue or let go of. Many of them I like and would like to finish someday, but they also pressure me with their very presence.

Right now, the Admiral Luke AU is first and foremost in my mind. The basics came out of a what-if discussion about what-if Luke never left military service. While he was a General in Shadows of Mindor we all agreed that a man in Admiral Whites was HAWT so he was switched from General to Admiral Skywalker. Then Mara was added to the mix. Luke would dislike her fringe neutrality and she would think him just another stuck up military leader who was given a position based on his name only. The premise was so she and Luke could have angry sex in his office.

That idea quickly morphed into an elaborate back story with both nu!canon and Legends mixed together to explain the current state of affairs and a re-write of The Thrawn Trilogy to include Hera Syndula, Ezra Bridger, Ahsoka Tano, Thrawn from both TTT and nu!canon, and why Luke is still in the military. But I think I overwhelmed myself with the scope and now have to take this is small chunks so as not to hide in terror of the massive fic it wants to be.

As for the WIPs ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ We’ll see.

Some interesting stats for this year:

1.    favorite fic you wrote this year

Apocalypse Yavin

2.    least favorite fic you wrote this year

Drabble: Corellian Checkers (nothing wrong with it, but of my mini fics I like it the least)

3.    favorite line/scene you wrote this year

From Twilight: Time stopped and in the instant between day and night their lips met.

4.    total number of words you wrote this year

For Posted Fics its 35,937

For WIPs its 28,574

Total: 64,511 (last year’s total was 79,028, but I admit I had a 20k sprint last year.)

5.    most popular fic this year

I Get Off (ya’ll love that PWP)

6.    least popular fic this year

Return To Endor

This was a self-indulgent fic for long-forgotten made for TV Star Wars films. I’m not surprised this is the least popular fic

7.    longest completed fic you wrote this year

Apocalypse Yavin (12792)

8.    shortest completed fic you wrote this year

Spin The Bottle (376)

9. favorite character to write about this year

I was going to say Luke Skywalker or Mara Jade but… Cindel was a surprise and interesting to write about so I shall name Cindel Towani as my favorite this year.

10. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

According to Spotify, it was Blade Runner 2049. Its mellow and easy to have as background music that will drown out other noises without making me want to actively listen to it.

11. a fic you didn’t expect to write

I Get Off

12. fic(s) you completed this year

In reverse posting order:

Apocalypse Yavin Reeling from the revelations that Vader is his father, needing to get used to a malfunctioning new right hand, and having to save his friend from carbonite, Luke is sent on a quest to find a kyber crystal for a new lightsaber. Unfortunately for him, Yavin IV is where he can find one. The moon is now a hellscape from the death throes of the Death Star and he has the eerie feeling that something in the Force is there, in pain, crying out for release.

Return Luke returns to Tatooine. But what kind of welcome will he find there? Owen Lives AU Flash Fic Crossing A Line (Getting To Know You Series) With a new Force bond firmly in place, Luke and Mara must now navigate this unexpected turn in their relationship. How do you go from friends to lovers because the Force wills it? Post-Nirauan story.

Not Just Another Day (Flash Fic) Luke gives Mara a gift on his birthday. 

Comfort (drabble) Han finds Jaina at the end of the Vong War. Prompts:  “War’s End” kiss & “You’re strong, baby. You have to be.” Reveal (drabble) Luke returns home to find Mara in an unusual situation. Prompts: “I do” kiss & “Frost the damn cupcakes.”

Spin The Bottle (drabble) Prompt: Spin the bottle & "Come over here and make me"

Corellian Checkers (drabble) Han hears Leia say something to Wedge Antilles he'd never thought she'd ever say to anyone.Prompts: “We’re playing checkers. If you don’t like it, leave.” & A Hoarse Whisper “Kiss Me”

Twilight (drabble) When Luke and Mara are forced to trek through the wilderness once again they find more than just pretty scenery.Prompts: Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In & “You can scream if you want.”

Return To Endor Cindel Towani is alone in the galaxy. She returns to the one place where she felt at home. The forest moon of Endor. She just prays that the one person she most wants to see is still there.

I Get Off “He could have called you ‘Master.’ Like I do sometimes.” Mara's voice was a smoky purr in his ear. Her arms slipped around Luke’s waist from behind. Luke smiled. “I don’t think it would be the same as when you do it.” “It better not be … Skywalker.” Luke jumped as one of her hands gave his stomach a slap. — Destiny’s Way, Chapter 3. by Walter Jon WilliamsJust how does Mara call Luke 'Master'? In the sexiest way possible.

4 Times Mara Noticed Luke's Feet and 1 Time Luke Noticed Mara's Mara never thought of herself as finding feet attractive. Until she spotted the toes of one Luke Skywalker. ~~~ Luke never paid much attention to Mara's feet. But they'd never been encased in shiny black leather before.

Written for the fetish/Trope roulette 

13. fics you’ll continue next year

I assume this means fics posted but not completed this year. Since its technically 0 I’ll say: The next installment of the Getting To Know You Series

14. current number of wips

7 which is too many. I’ll be paring down this year and trying to keep the white rabbit in check.

15. number of comments you haven’t read

ZERO. I LIVE for comments.

16. most memorable comment/review

Anything from the Fic Whining Circle!

17. events you participated in this year

Fetish/Trope Roulette which resulted in 4 Times Mara Noticed Luke's Feet and 1 Time Luke Noticed Mara's and its spin-off I Get Off

18. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

This years Halloween fic was supposed to be a Cyberpunk Halloween fic featuring Shirlee Faughn, Mara Jade, and my OC Starry Ice crew. I never finalized the plot so it got pushed to 2020 in favor of Apocalypse Yavin.