#can you believe ive been chipping away at this for over a year

[skiddykid]

Continuing on my quest try more book cover illustration by doing my own take on a cover for Widdershins 🌀

[laverrez]

talking about the hunger games and posing the "kill acquaintance that's in love with you or try to fake the game out with berries" question to my loved ones has caused me to realise that i did not in fact grow up lower-middle class like i had always believed, what i actually grew up in was just. the lowest class? which is kind of wild, i guess, because my family liked to talk like we weren't so poor, but now that im an adult i can realise that the average american family can afford $400/month rent and that the average american child doesnt go for days without access to food. and that like, the food they do have usually isn't solely canned vienna sausages, hot dogs, and plain ramen noodles, with the random cheap snack cake or chip thrown in as a filler. or, like, not getting toys often so that when you do get something, it's christmas and it's a nintendo so that you have something to occupy you besides the sticks and mud you play with, and it lasts to that effect for years because you get expensive things so infrequently that you take such good care of them, so you still have a fully working, very well kept fifteen year old DS Lite that you fairly frequently played Pokémon Black on right up until last year when you finally got a Switch Lite, but only once you had your decently paying job for well over six months and a roommate that cut your living expenses in half and were positive that you could afford it without cutting into how strictly you budget savings.

i uh, i got away from myself. i think the point is that my financial trauma makes a lot more sense now that ive realised we were not "averagely" poor and i didn't just happen to be profoundly influenced by something that everyone goes through, because they uh. they don't. so that's, something.

anyway my best friend and my fiancé are better people than i because they both opted to either berry themself or berry roulette with the acquaintance, whereas i would not hesitate at all to kill my peeta. would it surprise you to learn that they would've been from district 8 and district 3, respectively? ive spent all but one year of my life in what would be district 12, and maybe im a selfish dick, maybe it's the trauma, or maybe the fact that i grew up quite similarly to how characters in district 12 did formed that sort of survival instinct in me, but it was a wild thought train to follow while whisking meringue.

[brohogany]

André D. Singleton Has Learned to Trust Himself, Be Firm and Give Thanks (Hodgkins International)

“The struggle of being a survivor has been very real, and the truth is that even iron wears down. I can’t do it alone, no matter how inspired I am.” 1. When were you diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma? I was diagnosed in October 2004 when I was 18 years old.

2. What was the biggest challenge during treatment? Everything was the biggest challenge for me. I fought tooth and nail to get to college and was a freshman at Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia. It was five weeks into my freshman year—during midterms. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I wouldn’t be returning to school, AND I was now tasked with fighting for my life. I returned home to Kansas City, Missouri, to undergo all the blood tests and biopsies, which ultimately led to being diagnosed with and treated for Stage IV Hodgkin’s. Heartbreaking, to say the least. 3. When did you first meet another Hodgkin’s survivor? I met Quiana Parks in 2016. We’re the same age and went through treatment at the same time. It was an emotionally expressive moment for me. I love her. 4. What has been the most difficult thing about being a survivor? The most rewarding? The most difficult part is that, not only am I surviving HL, but I am also surviving as a Black man, a gay man, an artist and a poor person. It’s lonely navigating the world with so many strikes against me. The oppression of the world really crushes each of these parts of me; collectively they are crushed. At age 18, I never had a starting chance to be self-sufficient and independent. I have been tethered to a medical system that has never cared about me. I haven’t had consistent care, and I struggle with even using the word “care” because it hasn’t and doesn’t feel very caring. So, the compounded factors make survival a very difficult thing. I’m often afraid I won’t make it to age 40. Two healer/teachers, Sobonfu Some´ and Malidoma Patrice Some´, who have been important to me. The most rewarding has been my ability to understand the shadow side of life--how “darkness” serves me. I was so young, with such a pivotal diagnosis, that I was ushered into the realm of sickness, dying and death. I have deeply connected with many people who are sick and dying; I continue to honor my dear loved ones who have died. The urgency to care and share what resources I have--whether inner or outer resource--is paramount to me. The struggle of being a survivor has been very real, and the truth is that even iron wears down. I can’t do it alone, no matter how inspired I am. I still need critical help and support. So, I guess the reward has yet to come. 5. What is the most interesting place you have visited or would like to visit after COVID? I would say the most impactful place I’ve visited is Salvador, Brazil. I don’t believe there will be an “after COVID,” just like there isn’t an after cancer/Hodgkin’s. However, I do look forward to when I will be able to properly visit Africa. I’ve spent some time in South Africa over the years. I see myself spending time in Burkina Faso and other African countries. Burkina Faso is the home of two important spiritual teachers who have been major healers and instrumental in fortifying my faith in my body and genetics as an African person. I have infinite reverence for their understanding and eons of practiced faith. I want to be in a place where this isn’t a concept or something you can buy, but it is essential to the day-to-day experiences. 6. Who is the person you admire most? I admire people who endure suffering and really try to make sense of what they have or don’t have. The ones who can’t help but express what happened to them and how it still impacts them. The ones who keep repeating how they feel because they haven’t and don’t feel heard. Because I know that this chips away at their souls. But I admire the tenacity in those who go out with a fight. I never say people “lost their battle to cancer” or “cancer got the best of,” because cancer died, too, when said person departs the physical plane. 7. What would you say to your pre-Hodgkin’s self? Words of wisdom, “if I had only known…” Trust yourself and your heart, mind, spirit and soul. Be firm, but lead with soft hands, a soft voice, soft heart, soft eyes and love. Always give thanks. ​ 8. Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully, still living if the world can give me that grace. I can’t be here if others don’t see me here or want me here. It’s not even that I refuse to put the onus on me. I just can’t do it alone; no one can. Link: https://www.hodgkinsinternational.com/survivor-stories/andres-story

i’m tired of surviving.. . where is my support? my accolades? the love? the collective healing? no penance? no retribution? something has gotta give. and very soon. very very soon..

[codedredalert]

O’ Death [One Piece, Law] -- oneshot

Law-centric character study || 1157 words

The first time Law dies, he is ten and the world ends in fire.

(Written for the OP Tarot Project Death card.)

Death Upright: Necessary endings, illness, change, letting go, transition, rebirth. Reversed: Living unaware, resistance to change, delayed endings.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death, chronic terminal illness and pain

(On Ao3) 

===/\===

.

          I. Faith

The first time Law dies, he is ten and the world ends in fire.

Somewhere between the rain of explosives and artillery, the marines in uniform dragging bodies into the street, and numbing horror, some part of Law is mortally wounded. It's a small part, and it goes into shock as Law buries himself under the crushing weight of bodies being carted out of the city to be burned.

His parents' son and sister's brother dies. He is carted away with a nameless heap of his country's people. The part of Law that is light, love, and innocence goes with them to the grave.

That he still breathes is of no account.

.

===/\===

.

          II. Flesh

The second is a slow death, from when Law is nine-and-a-half to twelve-and-nine-months.

Amber Lead hurts.

It's noticeable in the lungs first, in the hacking cough, and the sensation of never getting enough air no matter how many rasping breaths he might struggle to take. It goes for the intestines next, sitting heavy and painful in his gut, making even the thought of food unrealistic. By the time it takes to his skin, hard patches which crack and ooze blood and plasma…

Everything hurts, all the time.

Law's days are numbered. He counts them, three years from his parents' last hushed argument about his dying sister and himself.

Some days are better. Some days are worse. Some days, dying is scary, but living just hurts  so much.

Hate keeps him going.

Hate straps scavenged explosives to his small chest with patchy-white hands.

"Let me join you," Hate says to Donquixote Doflamingo with Law's failing lungs. "I want to see the world burn."

.

===/\===

.

          III. Heart

Law's third death is a surprise, but that is the risk of walking around with your heart in someone else's body.

Humans are social creatures. So, despite everything, it's rejection that hurts the most.

He'd overcome the impossible, escaped the fall of Flevance, fought through overwhelming grief and weakness, scraped together enough willpower and supplies to get to Spider Miles—and the Donquixote inner circle scattered away from him, screaming.

Disgust. Avoidance. The desire to eliminate him like vermin.

Again and again it happens, at every hospital Corazón stupidly,  ignorantly, drags him to. Law is subjected to fear and rejection time and time again.

It chips away at the pale shadow that had roused itself in the ashes of his burning city. He barely has the energy to be bitter, he  wants  to be bitter, to rage and rail and protest "I lived! I lived, and this is what I got."

But he's tired and everything hurts and he's twelve and he's dying and he's dead—he just hasn't stopped bleeding yet.

"You poor boy," whispers Corazón, thinking Law sound asleep. Law isn't, not truly—he hasn't slept properly in years. The strangled breaths, the twisted gut and the cracked skin don't allow it. "You poor boy."

And Corazón wept.

With his back to the man, Law feels tears fall upon his head. The heat and salt of them were alive, deeply human, and a remedy for great wrongs. Corazón swept the hate out, replaced it with the soft mortal thought of "I'm small and I'm scared and I don't deserve to die."

The tears he'd thought long-dried well up in his eyes and Law wept too.

From that point on, Corazón is Cora-san, and Law is a boy who deserves to live.

        (I love you.)

        (You are free.)

Cora-san dies in his place to make it true.

.

===/\===

.

          IV. Fear

Law's fourth death is by his own hand.

He learns his lesson—everyone around him dies. He hadn't learned well enough from Flevance, but the lesson had been repeated in Cora-san and well. . . he didn't fancy a third time.

He sends his people far away with every provision he can make for his failure. They're holding him back, he tells himself. So he looks his oldest, dearest, closest friends in the eyes and tells them to go ahead to Zou. That he'd meet them there soon. He doesn't tell them what he's going to do—Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin corner him to ask, but he's foul-tempered from stress and fear, and stubborn enough that they let the matter drop. He refuses to risk them, so he bundles up everything worth living for and banishes it, watches the Tang sink slowly below sunset-dyed waters for maybe the last time. He stands on the shore replaying the sight to burn it into memory long after they're gone.

"It's for the best," he argues at the yawning blank landscape of the winter half of Punk Hazard. He knows exactly what—who—he is up against, and preparing for death is only prudent. His exhaustion and selfish desire to hide with them in the Tang forever just isn't realistic. It doesn't matter how he feels. This way he can't be tempted to cowardice, to run into the waiting arms of those who love him and just . . . live.

He has a debt, a  duty, and he's already made Cora-san wait for so long.

It doesn't matter how he feels.

When the marines come knocking, when Monet reveals that she has been one of Doflamingo's all along, when his careful contingencies start collapsing around him, and allying with Straw Hat constantly feels like the dream where he misses the step on a staircase and  falls—

Law goes through the whole thing half-numb, smirking or scowling to hide his racing heart and whirling panic.  

Dressrosa is the end of everything, one way or another. Law is terrified but he can't show it, not with the Straw Hats watching him for direction and the slightest indication that he'd betray them.

Despite Law's best efforts, Doflamingo cuts through Law's plans, unloads a round of lead bullets into Law's chest in a mocking parody of Cora-san's murder. Somehow, deep in his heart, Law expected this. Law has run all the possibilities and permutations, failure is very real. It's  Doflamingo, after all. And Law is only Law.

But Straw Hat—impossible, aggravating, miracle-working Straw Hat—charges straight ahead. He causes pirates and kings to argue for the privilege of killing Doflamingo. It's bizarre, to have an entire crowd believe Doflamingo so easily killed—like he isn't a beast of mythos, the closest thing to invincible, the idol god of Law's desperate youth.

In the midst of the rabble, Law finally manages a fragile belief in what he's been trying to convince himself of for thirteen years:

          He is not infallible.  

          All men must die.  

          All men must die, and Doflamingo is only mortal.  

In that moment, Law decides, against all logic and reason, to bet everything on Straw Hat.

.

.

.

.

Impossibly, they win.

High above the rising dust of Dressrosa's ruins, Straw Hat defeats Doflamingo. Law picks Straw Hat from the sky and Doflamingo's dominion dissolves along with his birdcage.

It's over, everybody lives—

.

.

                        —and Law is  free.

.

.

===/END\===

(On Ao3)  ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter 12: Cardioplegia

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of family member death, medical procedures, ANGST, hospitalization, references to memory loss

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Note: Before y’all demand my head on a stick for this ending, please note that there is an epilogue and bonus part still to come.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

"Min Yoongi? Jang Sumi?" the doctor asked, carrying a clipboard in his hand. "So, I hear you have some concerns you need to discuss with me?" 

You recognized the doctor from when you'd ended up in the hospital after the night you met Yoongi. He seemed to be the only soulmate bonding specialist in the whole city and your stomach turned. You wanted your needles.

"Yes," Yoongi said. "You see, an urgent family matter has come up for Sumi and she has to fly to the US as soon as possible." The doctor nodded. "The issue is that due to my schedule, I can't go with her. I know you said there were exemptions for work, do you think this would cover that?" 

"It's hard to know," the doctor said. "It's possible you would have no problems as the conflict involves your work. But, for Sumi, there's nothing obligating her beyond the love for her family. I fear it would be risky. We wouldn't know until Sumi is on the plane and if you both have a reaction, it's likely Sumi wouldn't be able to get to a hospital in time." 

"Then, no," Yoongi said. "What are the other options?"

"Wait," you said, touching Yoongi's bicep lightly. "What are the chances I have a reaction on the plane?" 

"I'd say a 70% chance you react, 30% you don't. If it'd been over a year since you'd met, it would probably be 50/50. As the years go by, reactions become less likely. At least in the limited experience and research, we have from soulmate couples. Every couple is different."

"I'm willing to take the chance. Maybe we could hire a doctor to fly with me--" 

Yoongi's hand shot to grip your thigh cutting off your words as your jeans rubbed against your skin where his fingertips touched. Even with the fabric between his skin and yours, it still felt like sitting too close to a fire. The sparks flying just over your head. 

The doctor arched his eyebrow. "There aren't a ton of options. We are researching drugs right now to help curb reactions in situations like this, but since the reactions are individualized in some ways, it makes it hard to develop one drug that will work for all."

"I can come with you," Yoongi said, "It's the only option." You saw in the way his lips were in a slight frown that his thoughts were racing. His voice quieted. "And you'll need me."

"Yoongi, I-I don't know how long I'm going stay. You can't stay forever and I might."

Yoongi's eyebrows rose as his lips fell into a frown. "You want to stay?" 

You felt the atmosphere lose color. The vibrant scene slowly turning black and white. Yoongi's hand still rested on your leg like it belonged there. 

"I could teach Korean. Do translation work. I don't know. But, I miss my family and knowing things can happen so quickly and I could lose them, I just..." Unlike all the other times, there were no tears. You couldn't cry over this. You wanted to cry, grab the closest objects and fling them at the wall until they dented it, or at least chipped the paint. You wanted to grab Yoongi and kiss him, tear off his shirt, pull on his hair. But you couldn't. The only thing you could do was sit and listen to the doctor say you had to choose.

"Can we talk about this privately?"

"Before you make any decisions," the doctor said. "I should inform you that we have been working on an experimental cure. We haven't tested it on any human subjects yet, but we could use you if you consent. We can't guarantee it will work, but if it does, it would solve your problems. We don't know what side effects would be, but we would keep you for 24 hours for monitoring." 

"Is it safe?"

"We believe it is. We've done animal trials and while they don't have soulmate connections like you do, they have not shown any side effects that we're concerned about." The doctor stood up to leave. "I'll give you some time. I know this isn't an easy decision, so take your time." 

Once the door closed, you and Yoongi turned towards each other, your knees knocking together. His hands found yours, but you felt his gaze on your face which was angled downward, your eyes focusing on the way his thumb moved slowly over your knuckles.

"Yoongi, I don't know what to do. I need to see my grandma. I wish this wasn't so complicated and I'm scared cause what if the cure doesn't work or it gives us weird side effects. I mean, technically we could die. Yoongi, what do I do? I'm gonna lose my grandma. I-I don't want to lose you too."

"Hey, hey," he said, letting go of your heads and pulling you into his chest. You heard his heart beating against your ear and how his fingers shook slightly as he ran them over your hair. "It's going to be okay. Let's just think about this." 

He was silent for a few moments. You didn't even hear the doctors and nurses rushing past the room or the beat of your hearts. 

"We were working to sever this anyway. We won't lose each other. I'll still be here for you. You can still call or visit. I'm just concerned if something bad happens with the cure. Are you willing to risk everything for your grandmother?" 

"Yes, of course." 

“Then, we'll try it. I want you to be happy, Sumi. I want you to be able to see your grandmother, okay?" 

You nodded. "Are you sure this is what you want?" 

"If it's what you want, then I'm sure." 

"Yoongi, I'm sorry. I know you--" 

"Shh," he said, smoothing down your hair and bunching it up and curling it around his fingers. "Let's just enjoy this last moment, yeah?" 

You burrowed into Yoongi's chest. You would truly miss his warmth, the way his heart beat in time with yours, how he noticed when you were anxious, and handed you your needles. You weren't sure someone like him would ever walk into your life again. And here you were, allowing him to walk out.

---

"Thanks for coming," the doctor said, nodding towards Namjoon and Eunji who stood off to the side, sharing furrowed brows and concerned glances between you and Yoongi. "Since we don't exactly know what state they'll be in after this we want to make sure they have someone to look after them after."

While the doctor continued explaining worrisome symptoms and aftercare protocol, Yoongi turned towards you and grabbed your hand, slipping a folded piece of paper into it. You flashed him an odd look before pulling your hand away and unfolding the paper, finding a plane ticket to Los Angeles. 

"I've made the arrangements. If you miss that flight, I'll get you on the next."

"Yoongi, you didn't--" 

"Yeah, I did. Now, you don't have to worry, okay?

The doctor finished talking to Namjoon and Eunji and turned towards you. "Are you ready? We need to induce a reaction for this to work, so I've made arrangements for one of you to receive the treatment at another hospital nearby. Which one--" 

"I'll go." Yoongi got off the bed and met your eyes. You'd already said goodbye, but it didn't feel like enough. There was a chance one or both of you could die. That it wouldn't work at all. There was an even greater chance that it would work and all the things you felt for the man in front of you would dissipate like fog in the afternoon. 

You'd miss the way you longed to run your hands through his hair. How your stomach flipped when he smiled at you or the way you felt his touch linger long after he pulled away. The way he could calm you with just a look or how he allowed you to fiddle with his fingers when you didn't have your needles. 

"Bye, Sumi. Call me whenever you need to, okay?"

You nodded and clasped your hands together tightly. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to your forehead and left the room before he could look back. 

Namjoon met your eyes and offered a sad smile. "Take care, Sumi." 

"You too, Namjoon." 

Namjoon followed after Yoongi and it was just you, Eunji, and the doctor. "Once her symptoms begin, we'll administer the cure. We'll then just monitor her for any reaction and go from there." 

Ten minutes later, it started. You felt the tightness in your chest, sweat pricking at your hairline, and your legs were restless, wanting to move wherever Yoongi was. 

"Eunji, hold her hands, help keep her still." 

Eunji was hesitant, but she walked over and held your arms flat against the bed. "It's gonna be okay, Sumi. Just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing." 

You flinched as you felt the needle in your arm and fluid spilling into your bloodstream. It was hot--not hot enough to burn--but almost. Your heart slowed, but your breathing didn't catch up. 

"Sumi, how are you feeling? Are you okay?" the doctor asked. You could vaguely make out the two figures hovering over you. Your vision went black around the edges and your legs went numb. You felt yourself falling and the two figures became smaller and smaller.

---

You woke up. White sheets surrounded you and the room was dark except for the light peeking in from the hallway outside. You heard Eunji in the hallway. It sounded like she was talking on the phone as you didn't hear another voice. 

"What do you mean, Namjoon?" Her voice sounded distressed. Worried. 

You glanced down at the IV in your arm. Your head hurt and you couldn't remember why you were here or how you got there. How long had you been here?

"He-he's okay, though? I mean, other than--"

Eunji's voice was now hushed. You strained to hear, but the machines connected to you began to beep. Eunji rushed back into the room, flipping on the light.

"Sumi!" Before you could blink she had her head pressed to your chest and was hugging you the best she could without disturbing all the needles and cords attached to your body. "When you passed out I thought you were going to die and I didn't know what was going to do without my best friend."

"Eunji--what--what happened? Who's Namjoon?" 

Eunji's face fell. "Oh, uh, that's not important. Let me get the doctor."

---

The doctor examined you. His eyes caught yours, a sad look crossing over them momentarily before he pulled away. 

“You seem perfectly healthy," he said. "I'm going to discharge you, but if you start having odd symptoms of any kind get to an emergency room. Okay?"

You nodded, not fully understanding. "Wait, how long has it been? How long have I been here?"

"It's only been a few hours, why?" 

"My grandma," you said. "I need to get to the airport and get a ticket and--"

Eunji reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. "You have a ticket. The flight's in a few hours. If you hurry you can make it. I'll send your stuff along later." 

"You didn't buy this, did you?" 

"No, Yoo--you really don't remember?" 

"Eunji, what aren't you telling me?"

Your friend glanced over at the doctor who mouthed something you couldn't make out. 

"It's not important right now," Eunji said. "Come on, you need to get to the airport if you want to get to the airport on time."

---

"I'll miss you," you said, pulling Eunji in for a hug. "I'll call you when I can."

"Take it easy, okay? You just got out of the hospital." 

"I still don't remember what happened, Eunji. Why can't just tell me? Was it an accident? I must've hit my head." 

"The doctor thinks it'd be too stressful on you right now. Maybe I'll tell you someday, okay? Just go be with your grandma." 

You nodded, even though you overflowed with questions, something made you feel at peace as you stepped onto the plane and into your window seat. Normally, this is when you'd begin feeling sick. You settled into your seat and pulled your flannel closer around you. You didn't remember owning a flannel with the sleeves cut off. It must be one of Minki's old ones that you'd stolen, but for some reason, it kept you calm as the plane rocketed off the runway and into the air.

THE END 

[yolkyeomie]

Ice Fairies | Hwang Hyunjin

summary — figure skaters are like ice fairies to you, and hyunjin is the prettiest fairy you’ve ever seen

word count — 2.7k words

pairing — hyunjin x gender neutral!reader

genre — figure skater!hyunjin, fluff, mc kinda pines after hyunjin but doesn’t rlly realize it

disclaimer — I actually know nothing about ice skating and ive been writing this since the moment I woke up so if it’s bad + inaccurate I’m so sorry

You had always enjoyed watching figure skaters be in their natural element, it was something about the way they skid across the ice that made you think that there was just something a little… inhuman about them.

If you were to describe what you believe they were, you say they were like fairies. The way figure skaters glittered in the reflection of the ice and the way they glided as if they had wings sprouting it from their back to fly was enough for you to think they were. But that was only from what you had seen on television. You had never seen a figure skater in person because it was wildly out of your own element to do so. And then a few months ago happened.

One day a stranger strolled into your town. It wasn’t an unlikely sight, your town was a frequent resting place for travelers. But the thing about the stranger is that when they strolled into town they didn’t feel like a stranger. In fact, they felt like they belonged. That’s something I’ve been missing in your town and the stranger had suddenly filled up the gaping hole you didn’t know needed to be filled. You thought you were just being delusional, there is no way such a strange person could make you feel this way? A person you’ve never seen in your life?

But then on a very chilly, very quiet winter day you decided to take a walk to your job. You don’t know what inclined you to do so, the weather was close to being unbearable and the ice and snow were thick on the ground from the snow storm before. But you did anyways as if you were challenging mother nature to try and stop you.

When you walk to your unbearable nine to five, there is a big lake that’s usually within your sights then. Because of the conditions beforehand it had turned into this icy winter wonderland, where the water was frozen solid and hard enough for people to walk across. It wasn’t unusual to see parents taking their bundle of children to go skating across it for fun family bonding, or see teenagers push each other towards the slick frozen over waters, so you paid no mind to it at first. But on your walk you saw something... different.

There was the stranger rhythmically moving his feet left and right, his jet black ice skates kicking up little chips and the frozen lake. He wasn’t wearing much to protect himself from the cold: just a throw on jacket and what looked to be sort of loose fitting pants. And don’t forget the low ponytail he wore his blonde hair in, the most recognizable of his lazy attire.

Why you thought he was going to freeze to death out on the lake at first.

Your brain had started functioning on its own, making decisions you weren’t fully comprehending when they happened. Before you know it, instead of being on your path to your boring nine to five, you were sliding down the side of the hill, careful not to let the snow trip you up, and calling out to him to make sure he was okay. When you had finally made it to the edge of the lake, your feet threatening to tip over and slide across its slick surface, he took notice of you. And then he jumped.

Looking back on it now, it was such a simple thing to do. But it left you in complete awe nonetheless.

Your eyes widened in pure disbelief as you watched him go from gliding with careful foot steps backwards to kicking one foot off the ground and forcefully raising the rest of his body into the air. For a moment you thought he was hovering in time, as if that one movement had stopped the flow of gravity just for him to levitate off the ice for a moment. And then in a slow motion-esqe manner you watched as he spun once in the air and then came back down landing perfectly on the same foot he started with.

A single axel, you recognized. One of the first things a figure skater learns when indulging in the sport. It looks so simple when you look at it from an outside eye but somehow it was enough to plunge you down into a world of wonder that you don’t even know you wanted to be in.

From that interaction, that's how you came to know wild and eccentric, Hwang Hyunjin. The new rising star and fan favorite within the figure skating world, and the owner of several gold medals that newbies don’t usually own. You knew that because he wouldn’t stop telling you once he got the chance. As clueless yet endearing his personality and perfectionist tendencies were, you two hit it off almost immediately. You don’t know whether it was because you like the fact that he was a figure skater, something you used to have a huge interest, or you liked him as a person but either way you two had gotten close enough for him to invite you to things outside of your little town.

One of those things, however, you did not expect to be attending one of the biggest figure skating competitions of his life.

Come with me, he said, it’ll be fun! I can show you how professional I get and how easy it is for me to win.

How it convinced you to join him on a cross-country trip is completely out of your mind. However it’s too late to go back on your words as now you were here at his competition standing on the sidelines with full moon like wide eyes looking back-and-forth between everyone who is currently in the room.

There were several other figure skaters here all warming up on the sidelines and getting ready for their performances to impress the judges. Every single one of them within the room were hoping to attend the Grand Prix of figure skating, and this competition was the last thing standing in their way to being able to compete. Despite this important detail though all of the competitors were looking around anxiously, the skin on the back of their neck standing up as they stayed on edge. There was this sense of stress within all of the skaters as the presumed to be new figure skating champion was in the building.

They were scared that no matter how well they went throughout their performance, they would be no match for the long-haired blonde you knew.

“Y/N!” A chirpy voice called out to you, like sunrays wrapped within their tone. You whirled your head around towards them, finally clicking back into the reality that you were here to support and not to gawk.

A boy not that much older than you came skipping up to you, his freckles stretching across his face like strained stars in a telescope’s eye. Lee Felix was a friend of Hyunjin, working and training under the same coach for their competitions. You had only recently met with him just a few days ago when you and Hyunjin had arrived in the city for his competition, but he already proved himself to be such a friendly and honest person that it felt like you had known him for years.

“Felix,” you grin, pushing yourself away from the railing of the ice rink to meet him halfway. Unlike many of the other figure skaters within the room, dressed in sparkly and eye-catching outfits for their performances, he was just as bundled up with warm clothing as you are. It seemed as though he was going to be watching the skaters instead of joining them on the ice for the day. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be with your coach and Hyunjin?”

“Usually,” the boy shrugged, moving his hands within the pockets of his puffy jacket. “But I’m not the one competing today, am I? Why would I sit and listen to a lecture about doing my best and aiming for the top when it’s not even aimed at me? Plus it gets boring after awhile.”

You snort at the boy’s excuse, rolling your eyes and turning back towards the ice. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because moral support can take someone a long way?”

“Is it not enough moral support to be standing up and watching from the side lines instead of laying down in my nice, warm, cozy bed? I could be sitting right next to a heated fireplace right now but here I am standing in the cold with no blanket to wrap myself in.” Felix jeered, his eyes looking far off into a world you couldn’t see. But by the expressions on his face you could assume he was fantasizing about the warm bed he had mentioned.

“How can you be an ice skater if the only thing on your mind is a bed and warmth?” You teased.

“Hey! I can’t help the fact that being warm is the best feeling in the universe! Why do you think I like hugs so much? It’s basically just sharing body heat so you won’t be cold,” He argued, wrapping his arms around himself to mimic the gesture. “Let’s not forget the fact that some people also give out the best hugs I’ve ever felt as well.”

You had to conceal the obnoxious laugh that wanted to escape your mouth. Felix was such an endearing person, the way he acts and the way he talks were two completely different things from when he was on the ice. Or at least that’s what Hyunjin told you, but he was known for… overdramatizing things.

“Speak of the devil!” Felix exclaimed untangling his arms from around himself and pointing to the other end of the ice rink. “There’s the star of the day!”

The chitter chatter of the competitors and watchers suddenly began to lower, turning into a low mumble as everyone’s eyes were fixated on the ice skater who had just stepped on the ice to warm up with the feat of the skaters.

Figure skaters are like fairies, you remind yourself. They move across the ice as if they’re flying and they sparkle in the light with a certain ethereal and shimmer to them. You knew this, you’ve always known this about figure skaters. But there was a certain flare about Hyunjin that was simply unmatched by every other competitor in the room.

Maybe it didn’t help with the fact that Hyunjin was already conventionally attractive in your eyes, but seeing him skate across the ice in his costume for his performance was mesmerizing. The way the light bounced across the glittery blue fabric of his ruffled Victorian shirt, or the way the colors of white and blue hues would blend into a beautiful ombré when in combination with his pitch black pants and ice skates. Don’t even get started on how the way the azure blue ribbon tied up in his blond hair gave him just the right amount of purity to make him seem as though he were an angel in the flesh.

Mesmerizing, just mesmerizing.

“Hyunjin!” Felix called, waving his hands to catch the skater’s attention. The boy immediately turned the both of you, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he changed courses and began to glide towards the two of you. The bright lights of the ice rink made him shimmer like stars as he approached and the unorthodox beating of your heart was making it extremely hard to focus on one thing at a time right now. You had never seen him all dolled up and captivating while he was skating before. The best you had ever seen from him was a black skinny jeans and an overpriced on-brand hoodie.

“Felix,” He greeted, his soft smile still unchanging as he dressed his fellow skater. Hyunjin leaned up against the railing for support as his eyes then drifted towards you, adoration swirling within his irises. “Y/N. How do I look? Usually I’m not dressed too flashy but the coach thought this would be a nice change for this particular song.”

“You look nice,” you manage to choke out, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible with the burning hot reds of your ears and your clear flustered face. The figure skater pouted in response to your lackluster compliment, probably expecting a much grander praise from you seeing as this was your first time seeing him dressed in such a way. “What? I told the truth, you look nice.”

“Nothing else? Just nice?” He urged, trying to push another, higher quality compliment out of you. “What about… gorgeous? Ethereal? Bewitching? Exquisite—“

“Nice,” you repeat, absentmindedly running your hands through each strand of blond hair you could reach and gazing at the blue ribbon in his hair. “You look nice.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin nodded, melting into you as you rhythmically brushed your hands through his hair. “Alright, I’ll take that.”

“I did not come here to see you be gross with each other,” Felix chimed in, reminding the two of them that they weren’t alone at the lake in your little town, but in an ice rink filled with people whose eyes were always watching Hyunjin’s every move. The figure skater pushed himself off of the railing, putting a small distance between the two of you as a sheepish laugh escaped his mouth.

You attempted to laugh it off as well, punching Felix in the shoulder with a little too much strength to try and hide the embarrassment. How could you have forgotten that was literally right next to you? What if you slipped up and said something without realizing he was there? What if you acted without realizing everyone’s eyes were constantly on Hyunjin, and because he approached you, you as well?

Stupid Y/N. You’re so stupid, stupid, stupid—

“That’s my que,” Hyunjin gasped as a man spoke over the speakers, his words blasting into everyone’s ears to remind them that the competition would soon begin. You weren’t really paying attention to what was being said, though. Your eyes were too focused on the way the fabric of Hyunjin’s ombré blue and white shirt fit his physique perfectly and the way his hair was fell into perfect shape on his shoulders. “Wish me luck!”

“Get that first place bro,” Felix encouraged him, giving him a hard and strong high five. “Take us to the Grand Prix, I really wanna go to Tokyo this year.”

“That depends,” the figure skater said, turning towards with a shining grin plastered onto his face. “Y/N, do you wanna go to Tokyo?”

“You’re gonna put your whole rookie career on Y/N?” Felix gasped, his eyes widened in disbelief as he looked between the two of you. You don’t blame him for being so caught off guard by Hyunjin’s question, you were just as confused as Felix was.

Your bewildered expression and utter silence wasn’t being taken for an answer as Hyunjin intently looked at you, patiently waiting for you to respond despite the speakers overhead telling all skaters to clear off the ice. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you finally open your mouth to speak. “Hyunjin, you’ve been working towards the Grand Prix final for how long now? You shouldn’t be placing your entire career on—“

“Answer the question,” he interrupted. “Do you want to go to Tokyo with me?”

“Yes,” You finally answer him. “I would like to go to Tokyo with you.”

It was like your answer gave Hyunjin a sudden boost of motivation, his smile going from ear to ear and his eyes turning into little crescent moons as he began to shift to and fro on the ice. “Alright then,” He nodded, kicking himself backwards to go and join the rest of the skaters who were simply waiting for the boy to step off the ice. As he skated backwards, hands behind his back and his ice skates kicking up little chunks of ice, he kept eye contact with you and called out. “I’ll make sure I’ll take you to Tokyo, Y/N! And I’ll win the gold medal just for you!”

“Of course, you will!” You tell after him as he turned around. “You’re obligated to win me the gold medal because you brought me all the way here without telling me! Your gold medal is my gold medal!”

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 28 (NSFW)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read chapter twenty-seven

Title: You Need Me

Words: 5.9k

Summary: Third time’s the charm, right?

Warnings: Lost orgasm

ST Rambles: WOW! Not me posting a chapter a chapter after only two weeks. Nuts, really. As of now, this semester is much less of... it's just less fucking nonsense, if I am being honest. I am getting very excited about my future and where I will be this time next year. I have an interview on February 27th for a new-grad RN residency program. It's all just very strange and adult right now.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER // @elmidol​

However short it might be, you thought you would like to spend the rest of forever exactly like this.

The sun remained hidden, and the light of the moon had faded, leaving you shrouded in darkness and engulfed in the heat of Kylo Ren’s resting form. Not a limb had moved from what you could remember before dozing off last night, your legs kept woven with his, cheek melting into his solid chest, the broad hand between your shoulders less stark in its effort to keep you against him. Still, the world vaguely existing beyond the canopy around you, you remained tucked into him, unsure if you had ever felt this amount of peace before. One difference now, something you’d never had the chance to experience, was the faint tickle of deep, rhythmic breath coming from the sleeping warrior who caressed you.

Twelve. Twelve perfect, dazed breaths kissed your forehead and sent mild sparks dancing along your skin; they followed thoughts of absent nightmares, nightmares that always seemed to keep away when he was near. Looking at him, peering up to see the vulnerability in his slackened mouth and long, looming eyelashes framing the dying purple that lay beneath them, you could tell he had not slept this well since Starkiller. Maybe even before then. Quietly, you allowed yourself somewhat of a small victory at the thought.

You did not know what to do, not wanting to wake him, yet aware that you needed to get ready for your shift. The calendar-chip Karmen had given you had transferred its data into your watch, but your watch was rooms away – worlds away – resting on the refresher floor. The transport ship would be waiting at the front entrance at six, but that had to be at least an hour away if you were banking on the soft darkness surrounding you, not quite remembering what it felt like waking up to real sunlight.

So, ever so slightly, making every effort to silence your breath and shifting, you loosed from his hold and led his arm lightly back down to the bed, watching him for any sign of disturbance. Through the distance, you heard the early, soft ebbing of the sea, noting how it complemented the push of Kylo’s exhales. He did not seem to stir, not even a lapse in his breathing when you rolled onto your back and tugged the linens up to cover your chest, the cold of the room taking residence over the skin previously pressed to the hearth of his own.

Your Master. The Commander of the First Order. Kylo Ren. How strange it was to be here, to see up close every healed and healing scar, to witness the slight twitch in his brow, to study the handsome line of his nose and the various moles that flecked along his cheeks. This was the strongest, most feared and lethal man in the galaxy, and here you were fawning over the light spray of sparce freckles sprawled along his cheekbones. A privilege, you thought, to have the man who haunted nightmares keep your very own at bay.

Lips pressed together, eyes full of wonder, you let the very tips of your fingers trace the raven haze of hair that splayed beneath his dreaming face. And when the dark ends met his shoulder, you risked a featherlight touch over the hand you had earlier placed. An intricate, beautiful pattern of veins jutted out on its surface, his long fingers curled into a weak fist, your focus lingering along the scars cut into his knuckles. A life of scrapes and training and battle and bruises lived in his skin, the veins beneath treading paths along them, like a map, like a guidebook to each blight of hurt that ghosted their blue trails. You swallowed a giggle, wondering if you would pick a sixteen or a fourteen-gauge needle to start an IV on him.

Running your fourth finger along the prominent vein that fled gracefully along his entire arm, you kissed the inside of his wrist, watching his face and never wanting to disturb him, but needing to feel him. A slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth made your heart jump, choking back a gasp when a curl of hair swept over his eyes. Another fascination, how full his lips were; you touched them, a sneaking whisper of your fingers, pulling down on the bottom one and leaning in closer and closer, warmth fogging your hand, your face, his features unmoving and mild.

The elegant brutality that now crowned his features – it was healing, its edges no longer raised and red, but flush with their binding. Two weeks ago his face had been unmarred, but the whole of you found this new normal breathtaking, heart-stopping. Beholding him now brought you back to that desperate moment, just before he’d carried you to bed, when you clung to him because you believed you’d never get another chance.

Palm flat to his chest, above his heart, following the lead of his lungs, you closed your eyes and rested your lips to the corner of his mouth, and said, quieter than the very thought of a whisper, “I never wanted to hurt you.” A ghosted kiss. “I never wanted to leave then, and…” The steady beat of his heart remained, the rush of your own silencing the tide of the waking bay. With his next breath, with an aching chest that held nothing of the pain it had previously, you breathed, “I never wanted to leave then, and I never want to leave again.”

Not a single tear, not even the suggestion of one, nothing but adamant truth tapping against the canopy’s silence. You needed him here, no longer caring if it stole the innocence and vulnerability of sleep’s caress.

“Kylo,” you whispered, kissing him with intent, coaxing him awake.

A deep, sharp inhale. You could not trap the smile that broke across your cheeks.

A nuzzle against his nose, curious fingers breeching that sea of obsidian tresses. “Kylo, wake up.”

He hummed, his lips finally leading into yours when he left his dream’s embrace. Like he had not wanted it moved, his hand reclaimed your back and pressed you against him, his other hiking your leg atop his own, the feel of his skin warming you to your very center. Nearly melded against him, his bare torso to yours, you felt him harden, felt the heat of his cock grow and thicken, become weighted as it filled and filled. You caught an unbidden gasp, leaning away from him long enough to see the mischief that danced in his eyes.

His arms coiled around you as he stretched, a cant of his hips to finish off the gesture. He was looking down at you, first at your face, then over your body, the skim of his eyes heavy when you could see their every tick. Kylo slid a rough hand up your leg, stopping just beneath the curve of your ass and anchoring himself to the scorching skin of your inner thigh. When he looked back to your eyes, searing amber swallowed by the shadows of the room, you smiled and ground yourself into his erection. Kylo growled in approval, your lips gracing his and feeling the depth of the vibration on his lips.

“You know,” he sighed, sleep heavy in his voice, “they should add assault and battery to your charges.” Those fingers around your thigh reached deeper.

“Hm, and why is that?”

“Because,” he nipped your bottom lip, “I didn’t consent to any of this.”

His crooning tone filtered into your veins, amusement blooming in your chest. “You were asleep. If anything, I was being considerate.”

“Considerate, mm?” Your fingers fisted at his nape, the hand at your back gliding up to do the same. “I guess I’ve been very considerate both times I’ve woken up before you, then.”

“Kylo Ren: considerate,” you chuffed a giggle, “I don’t know about that.”

“Really?” he rumbled, light yet venomous. Kylo tread parted lips along your jaw, your ear lobe slipping between them before he pulled you in and whispered with pride and claim, “Because that first morning, before I left you to sleep in my bed,” the hand around your thigh shifted upward, just grazing your slit, “I stared at the bruises I’d made the previous night, stared at how they’d grown and how they all belonged to me.”

The tip of his tongue slid along the shell of your ear, a pant parting your lips when his cock throbbed into your abdomen.

Kylo’s tone had lowered and thickened when he next spoke, “I thought about waking you up, then,” the tip of his finger pushed into the wetness that had gathered between your legs, a pleasured hum rolling out of him, “thought about fucking my hand while I watched you sleep, knowing my cum had dried onto your thighs overnight.”

Hot, masterful fingers parted your folds, your breath stuck in your throat as Kylo stared into you, watching you when his touch brushed lazily against your clit. His eyes narrowed in knowing pride when yours seemed to flutter, hiking your leg up further, trying to get another graze of his touch. An effort in vain. His hips canted again, slowly this time, stroking himself against the soft skin of your belly.

“I wanted to fuck you awake, really, wanted the first thing you were aware of to be me splitting you open, wanted to see your eyes lull and widen when you realized what was going on.” A second tease of those fingers, slick slipping past your entrance. “And I could have, you know,” he drawled, a third nudge over your stiffened bud, a tug at the nape of your neck.

He waited, observing you before you asked through shuddering breath, “What do I know?”

An upward slant to those plush lips, a tongue running along his teeth, a viper behind his eyes. “You know that I can have you whenever, however I want—” his fingers began a slow, circling pattern, passing over and over that sweet spot “—because you’re always ready for me, always wet.” His hand shifted so it was his thumb rolling over the buzzing nerves, and the tips of three bare, slickened fingers teased your core. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You ground into him, begging for more of him, the length of his cock burning into you, slipping against your stomach as precum slicked his shaft. With as much nonchalance as you could muster, which was near zilch as you held back hums and winces with each pass of his thumb, you sighed, “Maybe, or perhaps you’re forgetting my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Maybe not right now,” he purred, pumping and circling his fingers, effectively inching you toward climax, “give it time. Give me time.”

“What are you talking about?” you panted, pushing your body into his hand, reaching the very brink of pleasure.

His hips canted, he grunted, and when you winced, seethed with pleasure, felt it tighten in your belly and quiver along your legs, Kylo stopped.

“No,” you whined, “no! That’s just cruel,” you pulled his face from your neck, “Kylo, what-,”

He said nothing, but there was something unreadable in his expression that stopped you from readying for battle. It appeared like something had just clicked for him, his eyes so distant he could have been in an entirely different galaxy for all you knew. Just as fast as he was gone, he returned with passive pomp settling a smirk into his face.

You studied him, confused and stunted, but if he wanted to return from wherever he’d gone, so would you. “Hey!” You punched his shoulder. “What the hell?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

He ground his teeth, sucking them before the most sardonic smile cast over his features. “You should get dressed,” he cooed your name, the sweet tone widening your eyes, feeling the challenge in it, “I would hate for you to be late to your second first day.” He hummed, laving his gaze over the sweat glittering along your heaving chest, tiding viciously with unsated breath. “We both know what happened the first time.”

With a raised brow, “I have two capable hands,” you countered, pushing away from him. “I don’t need you.”

Quicker than you could register, he had both your hands pinned beside your head, his broad, structured body pressing fully into you. “You do need me,” he breathed, nothing feral in his tone, but sure, not a shred of doubt when he said, “you need me, and for this to work-,”

“For what to work?”

He kept quiet for a moment, a decision weighing on him, focus flicking between your eyes and the light that teased beyond the windows, along the horizon. It appeared as if time would have permitted, if the sun had slept in a second longer, he would have answered you. You saw it in his eyes, when he peered down to you, his hair a shield from the rest of the world, you saw that whatever rested against his lips – it would have changed everything you knew. Everything you did not know.

But instead, with a swallow and a sigh, he simply said, “For this to work, you do need me.”

You tested a hand from under his, slipping it so your thumb smoothed along his flushed ear. Flitting your attention between his stark, serious eyes, feeling the panting of his parted lips, you knew you were right when you said, “We need each other.” Your other hand found its earlier home over his chest; staring at its placement, feeling every smooth, unrelenting beat of his heart, you declared, “for this to work, we need each other.”

Another quiet moment, and when you looked up, you found the very beginnings of dawn claiming the shadows that had earlier claimed his irises. Pushing his hair back, you could see that even though you were right – you did need each other – he didn’t want it to be true. Not that it seemed to anger him, but something remained hidden, kept quiet in his gaze, something taut and unyielding; something, it seemed, he did not want to admit – to you or himself.

He nodded. Not a word, not a breath. But more than you would have expected from him in the past.

Equal.

“You could have just let me finish and then been dramatic, you know?” you sighed, easing back from intensity when something of amusement softened his face.

“At least for today,” he purred your name, “your world will revolve around me.”

“And why is th-oh,” the Force nudged your bud, laved at it just as his tongue might.

He leaned down one last time, lips to your ear. “Because you’re not cumming until I let you, and you have a twelve-hour orientation shift to look forward to today.” An icy thrill swept your veins when he promised, “I intend to make each one of those hours memorable.”

“You won’t be anywhere near me.”

“As I’ve found recently,” his hand teased along your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting the very tip of your nipple. When you shuddered, he hummed, “distance is no longer a barrier.”

Even through the haze of lust, there was no hiding the contempt in your voice when you barked, “And you figured that out how? Through training? While you’re still healing from not even two weeks ago?”

Kylo did not say anything, instead leaning back and letting you out from under him. He was still hard, but you had no time or want to care about that fact. Kylo watched as you stormed from the canopy and gathered your clothes from the refresher, nearly stomping. Through the gossamer fabric, you saw he was amused with you, and when you pulled on yesterday’s uniform to make the short distance to your room, he stood from the bed and sauntered toward you.

“Didn’t Belkar give you orders to not strain yourself for at least a month?” Your arms were crossed to your chest, your remaining belongings tucked beneath them. “You know, you aren’t invincible. You have to know that by now, right? Because I sure as hell do.” The image of his comatose form slithered in and out of memory. You shuddered. “Can’t you just do what’s good for yourself? This once?”

He took the step up from the bed’s level, the heightening sun glowing behind him, crowding the pale blue of the sky with every step that brought him closer. Lazily, like you weren’t lecturing him, he ran the flat of his fingers along his shaft, cocking his head when he stopped a pace away from you.

“Why would I listen to his orders?”

“Okay, then it’s my order,” you said, “because if you want to be stubborn, fine. But if I need you, then I need you at your best, not hurt and half-healed because your skull is too thick and your ego is too big to process that no matter if you are Kylo Ren, you are still human. And I am your care provider. And… I… say so.”

His lips twitched. “You say so?”

Although you barely believed the authority in your tone, you held steady, “Yes, Commander Ren, I say so.”

He’d never looked at you quite like he was now, something of stunned pride gleaming behind a much more fortified front of command. Closing the space between you, your back meeting the chilled black of the door, Kylo leaned down and studied your crossed arms. Knowing mischief flashed in them before he sought your gaze and met you with a face full of challenge.

“First,” he rumbled, his breath on your lips, “address me by my name or my title, not that rank. Ever again. Understood?”

Eyes on his plush, dawn-kissed mouth. “Yes. Second?”

“Second,” tongue in cheek, the hand he’d busied with his erection came up and plucked an article from your arms. It was only after his face became the youngest you’d seen it – taunting eyes and a broad, pompous smile – when you realized what hung from the tip of his forefinger. “I suppose mine might be more comfortable than your own?”

Your mouth fell open – in horror or at his audacity, you did not know. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, waiting for you to squirm as you viewed his boxer-briefs just inches from your face. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“They are, actually. So, if you don’t mind—” you plucked them from his grasp, not breaking his stare for a second “—I’ll take these.” He only looked between your eyes, his own glinting with amusement. “And here—” you balled up your own panties and clasped your hand to his, tucking both to his chest and smiling sweetly “—if I’ve put you out too many pairs.”

A few seconds passed where all you did was take victory in the stunned setting of his features, and when you reached to activate the door, he caught your hand and pressed a long, hard, lusting kiss to your mouth. When he finished, both of you panting, he circled a canine with the tip of his tongue and took a step back.

“Good luck today,” the door shot open and your heart thrummed at the whoosh of ice over your back. With the tone of his next words – slithering, toying, smug – and remembering his promise to make the hours memorable, you knew he meant nothing to do with your occupation when he said, “you’ll need it.”

Sighing, you stepped into the vacant landing, and shot him one final smirk. “I have my watch if you need me,” you swept your gaze over his bare, muscled body, “if you want me.” No matter if you’d meant to, you’d initiated a game, and for the first time in so long, you were excited to play.

In the few steps from his room to your own, you waited for the gentle lock that indicated the door’s close, but it never came. For a second, you wondered if it had shut and you just did not hear it, but you felt those dark, peering eyes and knew his gaze was following your every move. So when you activated your door, took one step past the threshold, you pulled the skirt of your uniform over your head and stretched your arms above, your bare back arched and ass on display.

In a marked taunt, you purred, “Think of me fondly in my absence, Master Ren.”

You did not wait for a response before activating the door to shut, but one still came in the form of an overwhelming, buzzing pulse between your legs. A high-pitched mewl accompanied your trip forward, yipping until ten endless seconds passed and the pleasure thrumming along your slit subsided.

Game on.

[HORIZONTILE LINE]

With a fresh uniform, and Kylo’s briefs hugging your curves, you strode through the manor – although, you were still unsure what to call this place – and meandered your way around until you found a kitchen. Some of the staff acknowledged you with a small nod, others too busy cutting exotic fruits and preparing for breakfast. Which, passing by two intricately stacked and arranged platters, you knew most of the food being prepared would just as quickly be disposed of.

A woman in a black uniform guided you out of the bustling kitchen, taking you to a dining room. In it was a long table, undoubtedly used for meetings and manipulation, filled with trays of meats and fruits and carafes of juices, a metal one indicative of milk or cream. A large, insulated pot with a gilded, floral handle, steamed at the far end of the table. Caffeine.

There was limited time to eat, only about thirty minutes before the transport arrive, so you took a plate, painted too intricately with the flowers you’d walked through last night, and gathered whatever sustenance might help you make it to lunch. Most importantly, you filled a delicate mug with piping hot caf and carried everything into an adjoining room.

No lights were on, only the rising dawn filtering through thin veils of curtains, and Talia sat at the very end of the otherwise empty, centered table. She was dressed, but looked disheveled, at least for her typical put-together appearance. She wasn’t working alongside you, you knew – your assignment at Canto Bight’s medbay purely aimed at incriminating you – but it was still nice to have a friend, one who was under the same roof and not acting strangely.

Her hands were clamped onto either side of her head and there was a plate of picked-at food pushed to the side, a glass of water placed before her sunken head.

“Hey, Tal,” you started, noting her subtle jump at your voice. When she gave a subtle wave, you took a seat next to her and asked, however redundant, “How’re you feeling this morning?”

A long sigh, fingers comforting her temples. “Do I look that bad?”

A pause, considering. She looked quite pale, but there was no sheen of sweat over her forehead. She was breathing a bit quickly, and her mouth appeared to be parted, like she could be sick at any second. “Well, you’ve looked better, but I’ve seen you at your worst.” A look around the room, tuning your ears to the clang of the kitchen. “Is it nausea?” you whispered.

“Stars,” she winced, more in theatrics than pain, “I’ve spent more time over a toilet than anywhere else since the beginning of this thing.”

You chewed at a fruit you’d never had before, swallowing before saying, “Is it just in the morning or is it all day?”

“Morning sickness is a cruel lie they tell unsuspecting women,” she cleared her throat, finally peering up to you. “At least that’s what I have concluded.”

“Did you sleep last night?” There were purple splotches under her reddened eyes.

A shy smile slipped onto her face, quickly faltering. “I could have gotten more.”

Your brows raised, realizing Talia had a similar night to your own. “Oh?” you hummed.

“A private half of this villa?” she lowered her voice, swallowing, looking to the arch that peered out of the room, “and then adjoined rooms? It’s like they want us to have affairs with our assignments.”

“Well,” you sighed, recounting your night and morning, “perhaps. If that’s the case, can I assume where you slept last night?”

She loosed a breath of amusement. “Shockingly, no.” She shook her head, closing her eyes again before explaining, “I haven’t told him. Yet. Still. I stayed with him until he fell asleep but made it back to my room before I could hurl up everything I’d eaten yesterday.” A small, bitter laugh. “Do you know how impossible it is to throw up quietly?”

A warm sip of caf and you tapped her wrist, earning her attention back. Eyes filled with concern, you asked, quieter than the distant shore, “Are you afraid to tell him?”

“I’ve tried,” she sighed, completely exasperated, “This past week I have had so many opportunities – traveling here, the last few days on the Finalizer… last night.” Talia ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “I want to tell him. I need to, if I’m being honest. Time sensitive issue and everything.”

“Has he suspected anything, or do you know?”

A gloom shrunk her features, her focus shifting to the window behind your shoulder. “I think that’s why I haven’t told him. Armitage is always busy, running off to this place and that. I love the time I spend with him, I do. But, his lifestyle isn’t necessarily… compatible, I guess. Not with a baby. Not with, not with a partner. Not with me.”

“Oh, Talia.”

“No, I’m okay,” she shrugged, sad eyes going back to her glass, “I think I’m just biding my time. Preparing for the worst.”

“And what would the worst be, here?”

The room went silent, still, a few staff members replacing what you’d picked from the trays. For a few minutes there was only the sound of far-away waves and the kitchen’s relentless clattering, but Talia cleared the silence with a drag of breath. “The worst would be me telling him, him not wanting anything to do with me or my situation, being removed from his service and out of a job, publicly disgraced and shamed for carrying the General’s bastard kid, and just wholly ruined socially, occupationally, and personally.” There was quiet fear clawing at her eyes, but she forced a pleading smile.

“Wow,” you breathed, cutting through the intense moment, “it’s almost like you’ve thought about it before.”

A pitiful laugh. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Well, there’s always the alternative,” you shrugged. “Maybe none of that scary stuff will happen. Maybe Hux will embrace it. Embrace you and your situation. Because it isn’t just yours, Talia,” she considered your next words before you said, “it’s his, too.” You clasped her hand, trying to get across that she could come to you whenever she needed. “When you’re ready, or at least before you’re in labor,” you shared a laugh, “tell him. I think… I think people can surprise you if you let them. Maybe Hux will do just that.”

The pact that bound you seemed to glow, such gratefulness in her expression. She smiled and slipped her hand from yours, sipped from her glass and shook her head. “Well, now that you’ve bandaged my crisis, how are you doing? Only a couple days before everything gets real.”

Though you knew it was true, you’d barely considered the trial. Aside from Karmen’s rundown yesterday, you’d spent most of your time preparing for your shift, worrying about Mason, and cooped up with Kylo Ren. So maybe it would all feel real when you got there, but as of right now you’d scarcely thought of it.

“I think I’m doing better than I should be,” you sighed, nibbling a piece of toast. “Like you said, this place is rather extravagant, and then this whole city is unbelievable. I don’t know, maybe I’m just avoiding thinking about it. And, like you, I’m preparing for the worst.”

A glum smile hardly met her eyes. “Your worst is far worse than mine. I can’t even imagine.”

“You and Mason both, I guess. Although, you’re not as cryptic with it as he’s been.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She notched a brow.

You breathed a giggle, remembering you needed to clarify, “Just trouble, no paradise. Mason and I aren’t together.”

Talia was completely taken aback, no hiding her shocked expression. “Oh. I mean, I just assumed… Are you sure? Does he know you aren’t together?”

“I’d assume so,” her tone made you wary, not sure what was so obvious.

“I’m sorry, I really just thought since seeing him in the medbay so often that you two were a thing. Like, a serious thing.”

“We’re not,” your tone was short, but you breathed before saying, “I’m seeing him tomorrow. I need- ah, ah, fu-,”

That buzzing Force claimed your cunt, drilling both sweet spots and making it impossible to breathe. After a few seconds, its presence – its master – merciless, you crossed your legs and knitted your hands together in your lap, coughing to try and hide the sensation’s vision-blurring effects.

Talia was stunned, but before she could ask, you continued, “I’m see-seeing Mason tomorr-ow, and ha! Wow, and,” it felt like Kylo was thrusting inside of you, your toes curled in your shoes. “And grabbing some clothes for the trial. He also said he wants to ta- oh, okay.” You stomped both your feet to the floor, leaning down to the table and chugging the rest of your coffee.

“Are you alright?” Talia leaned forward, but you waved a hand in dismissal.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. So clothes and then Mason wants to talk!” You stumbled away from her and tried to keep from cursing Kylo Ren outwardly, a few shouts of goodbye falling behind when you eventually got out into the main halls of the manor.

The pulse between your legs finally let up, and you had half a mind to tromp back to his room and knee him where it’d hurt, but there were five minutes before transport would arrive, so you decided it would need to wait for a later date.

“If you can hear this,” you hissed, searching the halls for onlookers, “I’m going to-,” a swirl of pressure laved your sensitive bud, sending you tripping into the foyer. “Kylo.” It let up again. He let up. Maybe you would have tried another retort, but the grand entrance slid open, and at the bottom of the dawn-draped stairs awaited CB-7070.

She had a hand clasped to her wrist, not a blaster in sight, and her face remained hidden by a white helmet. The gold band over her right wrist shimmering with the sliver of sunlight to your left. Consciously, you half-circled her, wariness creeping along your veins. Nothing she had done, but… for a second you dropped your eyes to that familiar break in her uniform. You swallowed when you looked back to her visor, not offering a smile, and keeping at least three paces away at all times.

“Morning,” she muffled out your last name, pivoting to face you. When she took a step forward, you tried not to, but you backed away in suit. She stopped her advance.

Without a word, you nodded, pushing your hands into your pockets.

CB-7070 cleared her throat. “I’ve been informed by Commander Ren that you can assign me a name if you choose.”

“No,” you said, too quickly. “No, that won’t be necessary. CB-7070 is fine. We won’t know each other long.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Use my first name,” you commanded, running a finger along your uniform’s embroidery.

“Understood,” this time she used your own name – no titles, no pleasantries.

With only two minutes before transport, you said, “You’re aware you will not be in any of my patients’ rooms, correct?”

“I have been briefed on Cantonica’s privacy laws, yes.”

You peered side-long at her. “Good.”

When she spoke your name, there was a measure of nerves you couldn’t help but notice. “Is there anything you need from me that will make this arrangement easier for you?”

There was little time to think, but something in your head was screaming to request the one thing you felt would minimize the pit of dread rooting in your gut.

Plainly, facing her, arms crossed, you said, “Show me your face.”

Without hesitation, the stormtrooper unlatched and removed her helmet. She was dark-skinned, full lips and deep brown eyes inherent of the desert around her, genetic protection from the lifelong sun on this planet. Dark brunette curls were smoothed to her scalp, twisted into a tight bun at its base. Her face was round, and with the slight smile she gave, her cheeks crinkled a pair of gentle eyes. So young. Too young.

“How old are you?” There was a harshness in your words, not entirely intentional.

CB-7070 did pause at that. After squaring her shoulders she said, “Eighteen. Nineteen soon.” Her voice was kind, warm.

“I don’t need you to prove yourself,” you guessed as much at her posture, “I can assume if you’re here, at this… place-,”

“The Consulate.”

Consulate. “Thank you,” you continued. “Since you’re stationed at the Consulate, I can assume you’ve already done enough grunt work,” those early weeks, before Kylo Ren, flashed in your mind’s eye, dehydrated soldiers, strung out in preparation for the attack on the Republic. Sighing, watching the sky for any incoming ships, you took one step toward her. “No, I don’t need you to prove yourself. But I do need you to have my back.”

She stood even straighter at that.

“I know you’re assigned to watch me and report to the General, and I’ll just say right now that neither of us is the other’s favorite person. But I am not your enemy. I’m not an enemy.”

She looked at you, hearing the approaching ship, and just before it sped too close to blast your hearing, the young Stormtrooper nodded and said, “I was briefed on your case. You are not an enemy. You saved that man, an engineer. One of many who normally go unseen and unnoticed. I will do my job, but I am not biased to you or my General.” She angled her eyes to the sky and tucked her head back into the helmet. “As much as my assignment is to monitor you, I have been trained to protect the officers and officials of the First Order. And given you kept the Commander alive after Starkiller went down – you are one of the most important officers I’ve been tasked with.”

You hadn’t known that was general knowledge, her admission striking through every chamber of your heart. The memory of that day. People had seen such a different side of it, they’d seen you protect and serve when minutes prior you were begging for death in the dark of your residence. The day you could have used a savior, others had painted you as their own.

CB-7070 marched to the transport’s descended ramp and faced you. “Ready when you are.”

With a straight back, hands smoothing over your uniform, you approached the ramp, waiting for CB-7070 to follow behind. She stood next to you, but before you took a step further, you turned to the Consulate, and then to the sea that spanned beside and behind it, and you quieted all that Canto Bight had already presented.

Today was not about Snoke, or Mason, or Kylo. Today was about you and your patients, whoever they would be. Today you were not Commander Ren’s Care Provider.

Today you would be a nurse, and that meant more than anything.

[tomdiddlyumptious]

i know youre just as obsessed with the save your tears song as me, please make a fic with peter of it🙏🏾😭

lololol sorry i got this a while ago, but yes. i have an unhealthy obsession with this song. 

P.P~ Save Your Tears

warnings: none?? language??

words- 1.8k

You and peter...you and peter were special. When there was peter, there was you. No matter where you went, no matter where he went, you both were with each other, until you werent. 

“Y/n, i love you but i need this college, it means so much to me, tony wants me to go-” “tony wants you to go? He matters more then me? Peter ive been with you since forever” you said, tears pooling from your eyes, standing up in his room while he sat on his bunkbed- his cheeks and nose red as he looked at you. “So this is what its about, making tony proud? What about me peter? What about me?!” you waited for his answer, but when he didnt say anything, you just gave him an empty, sad look, a shocked look,”so this is it, huh? You go to college and you leave me and may in shitty new york, and for what?” you chuckled, “to make your” you did quote on quote “dad proud?” he became angered, staring daggers at you. “He cares about you but i clearly care more, you wouldnt even be thinking about college if it wasnt for me. Youd be stuck as spiderman still trying to make him proud!” you laughed.

“Peter, did you hear what i said, “STILL PROUD”. He doesnt even give you fuckin validation. You know what. Fuck you, have fun in missouri, i hope you make him proud” you said, stomping out and slamming the door behind you, power walking out and accidently ignoring may with your own crowded thoughts while you walked out.

But that was 2 years ago. 

You went to a college in Atlanta, peter long forgot, you and ned decided to go together. So there was a huge party in Atlanta, Harry knew about it causing Peter to know about it too. 

“Yeah theres this huge party in atlanta and i wanted to go” he said, in the kitchen of the apartment, eating chips as he looked at peter, who had his textbook in his hands and his glasses on, he looked at harry “your going out of state...just for a stupid party?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah i go every year,” “and your telling me this….for?”

“I want you to come with me” harry smiled, walking over and hopping on the couch while peter set his text book on the coffee table “i dont think so” he said, “oh come on! The most baddest chicks are their peter! And you need to get over y/n-” “shut up, harry” peter looked at him with a clenched jaw, your name was his kryptonite, making him weak in his stomach and his knees woozy as if they were gonna fall out. “Look, your doing it again” harry called him out. “Ive dated her for over 7 years harry, what am i supposed to do, toss her in the trash?” “Yes actually” he shrugged, making peter grumble before taking off his glasses and setting them down. “i’ll think about it” “i’ll pack your bag” harry did a quick grin at him before standing up and tossing the chips at peters chest. 

So there they are, moving into another apartment for three days, only taking out a few pairs of clothes and leaving it on the bed. “Party is tomorrow, we need drinks and stuff” “if its a huge party what do we need to buy stuff for?” peter asked, harry said, “You're too innocent” before walking off. 

“Ned! I do not need a plus one!” “it wont be a plus one it’ll be a plus two!” “im not going in there as a throuple” you turned to him, he didnt want you to look lonely inside of the party, so why not just go on an open date with betty and him? Because it weird, or thats atleast what you thought. You picked out your dress, your body has changed since senior year, making your curves more evident, which you didnt mind, it was nice. The dress was quite tight in the right places, making you feel confident, you asked betty how it looked, she said if she was a lesbian shed try to dig, which was unusual for someone like her to say that, but youd take it. “Are you sure, y/n?” he asked, genuinely, you turned to him and sincerely nodded. “Yes, thank you” 

And so there it was, harry and peter went to buy the drinks, two bottles of each just for home, which harry made peter try, peter wasnt pleasant but harry said hed need it. 

So there the party was, harry helping peter pick something out, making sure it wasnt too “nerdy” which ended up in harry having to give peter something to wear, an oversized orange shirt and jeans, a black hat backwards and some of peters normal shoes, vans. “Im proud of my creation” harry said while they both looked in the mirror, peter sighed in disgust “i hate you” “love you too bud” 

You and ned got ready, helping him out with which colognes he should use, you made him help you out with the makeup, it was a simple black dress but there was no harm in trying to pop it out, “red” “red? Are you sure? Does it bring out my skin??” you said, he nodded “wear it! And hurry! We have to pick up betty!”

It was 9 o’clock, the party already started as you and your best friends pushed past people to get something to drink, but one drink turned into two, and then to three, and then continuing on. Ned ended up with red lipstick and lip marks all over his face and a tie around his eyes, everyone cheering him on when he was in a drinking competition with the famous gregory, of course ned won, making the boys chant his ned “ned ned ned ned!” and you were in the front row with betty, a red cup in your hand and everyone letting out a deep “wooooo!” and whistles when ned stuck his arms out in the air before taking the tie off, you laughed as the party stopped the challenges and it was dancing time, so betty pulled you to the dance floor, you let out an “ahhh!” as in you didnt wanna dance but she gave you a stern look “loosen up” she smiled, dancing around and her grin widened when you started to slowly loosen up, drinking the forbidden juice in your cup before you threw it wherever.

Peter and harry finally arrived, drinks in hand as he looked around, “there really is hot chicks” peter said making harry laugh hysterically before grabbing a cup for peter. “Just make sure you leave before i do” “yuck” harry passed the cup to peter, and he took a sip, his throat burning before he looked at harry “dont give up, the party has just started! I have to use the bathroom” harry walked off, peter looked around at the different sections, he could sit on the couch but there was people making out there, he could join some of the shot gunning but it was clear they were already thirty drinks in, which left him to the dance floor. 

Dancing in the crowded hall, stood you, as before, his stomach turned and his knees felt woozy as his mouth slightly opened, it was really you. Your hips moving loosely with a huge smile on your face, you looked so much more happier without him, he started to feel bad, his mind coming to memories before you caught him looking at you, making your movements falter. Your mouth open with shock, a single tear coming down your face before he called out your name, you ignored him walking the other way. “Dammit!” he said, placing down the cup he didnt need before pushing past people, he could see the back of your head, he groaned when a girl pushed him “watch where your going dumbass!” she said, peter ignored her and came upstairs still following you, now into an empty hallway “Y/N!- Y/N- i know you can hear me theres literally nobody else in this fucking hallway!” he said, his walking stopped as yours did to, you looked back at him, turning to him. “Please” you made eye contact with him, your face empty as no words came out of your mouth, you walked to him, a hopeful smile on his face, until you walked passed him, your shoulder thumping against his that made him fall, he looked back at you and furrowed his eyebrows, his heart shattered in pieces as he swore he heard it break like glass, it was already cracked. 

You could have asked him why he broke your heart

You could've told him that you fell apart

But you walked past him like he wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care.

He ran away from you and now it was your turn, you told yourself not to cry, to save your tears for another day, or for another, he wasnt worth it, at least thats what you told yourself. He watched as you disappeared, sadness engulfing him as he sat against the wall. “Fuck” he ran his hands through his hair before he looked your direction again, tears threatning to roll down his cheeks as he couldnt believe that happened, but it was his fault, and once he noticed that, he broke down in tears.

he made you think that he would always stay

He said some things that he should've never said

 He broke your heart like someone did to his, 

And now you won't love him for a second time.

He didnt know it would make you cry when he ran away, he didnt even know why he ran away. He wanted to chase after you, for you to take him back because this time he really wanted to stay, two years, much too late. He didnt deserve you, you deserved better, not someone who left you for someone he didnt even talk to anymore, tony. 

“Save your tears, y/n” you told yourself, but you couldn't take it, you ran to your car and opened the door, getting in the driver's seat you cried, slamming the door shut as your back hunched and you hit the hunk, kicking and hitting the steering wheel until you couldn't anymore, tears ruining your makeup as you looked at yourself through the rear view, your hair a mess, your eyeliner ruined, you, ruined. you couldn't save your tears, you couldn't save them for another day, or another. Peter, the love of your life, ran away, and you cant love him again, because, he broke you.

[mikkaeus]

lessons from 1000 hours of tutoring high school kids - a letter to my past self

not all those hours were maths, but this is about maths

Not in order of importance; in the order they came to my head. 

1. Do not trust a kid when they say that they understand something. They understand jack shit. Make them explain it back to you. 

2. When teaching sth new try to prod them to reaching the conclusion themselves instead of just straight up explaining it, if time permits. 

3. Things I have assumed and have been sorely mistaken:

a) If an area is identified to be an issue in the lesson, the kid will go and do some questions and revise themselves to fix it.

b) Kids take notes. (I’m still kicking myself for only realising this more than 6 months in with this kid. I get paid too much to be making stupid mistakes like this.)

c) Kids know how to take notes. (Session 1: Take notes, here is a detailed outline that you can then expand on with examples and stuff. Session 2: The kid has copied my scaffold word for word and not expanded anything on it. Me: You need to actually EXPLAIN how to complete the square for example, not just write “completing the square”. Kid: Okay yeah I get it. Session 3: For each topic he’s googled an explanation and copied entire paragraphs word for word, because he “thought they’d phrase it better than him”. He’s using terminology that I 100% guarantee he does not understand at all. I now understand why high school teachers always said use your own words when making notes - something that I had always thought should be blindingly obvious to everyone.)

4. Not everyone is as obsessed with not making mistakes or not being able to solve problems are you are. (For these kids, being stumped at a difficult question isn’t the end of the world.) They think a question ends at figuring out the answer, whether that be from the help of a textbook, the solutions, their friend, or me. You need to impress upon them that it doesn’t matter what the answer is! It’s about what you learn from the question. How was the way they were thinking about the question incorrect? How can they avoid this in the future? What general advice can they give themselves? And then they need to actually commit to reducing incidences of the same mistake in the future. Some kids I’ve been giving the same damn advice to every problem they get stuck on, and magically they can solve it after I give them the advice. Just remember the general advice!! You’re spending all this time studying but you’re running into the same wall over and over again instead of remembering to take the rope out of your bag. I’m not magic! I’m just sitting here reminding you that there IS a rope in your bag!!  (Not that my method of angry scribbling in red pen across my working and writing that I’m a fucking idiot is something I’d actually recommend, but they could definitely afford to be less laissez-faire about learning from their mistakes.)

5. Actually make good notes during the session; otherwise, the kids probably retain nothing. It is kinda awkward to be sitting there writing away but it is a necessarily evil. Also, you can write while they’re chipping away at a question themselves, and that way you don’t need to be watching them like a hawk while they do algebra painfully slowly. (I feel like kids make more mistakes in sessions than they do normally.) 

6. The key to being able to solve a problem is believing that you CAN solve the problem. I’ve been saying this a lot recently - if you follow the rules for maths, there’s no reason it should be wrong - when I have Year 11s and 12s asking me every step of simple algebra if something is correct, or asking whether you’re allowed to do something, and I ask them, “what do you think?” and they reply, “I don’t know.” (Related: Another thing I’ve been saying a lot is that algebra is about doing the same thing to both sides. They just think it’s magic!) Anyway, I brought this up because of problem solving questions actually, not basic algebra. Of course, you can teach them how to break down the question, or general processes like “if you don’t have enough information, go back and check you’ve used everything in the question”, but all that’s useless if they don’t believe that they can solve it by themselves. That means

a) You need to actually encourage them. Even though you’re not a... fluffy or particularly inspiring person, just try. 

b) YOU need to believe that they can do it too. Think of the number of times you’ve been shocked that some kid managed to make a leap of logic you thought was beyond them. Kids are better than you think (and also worse than you think, but we’ve already talked at length about that). 

7. It’s most of the time more beneficial to force the kid to go through the expanded version of the working instead of the abbreviated version. They’re not you, trying to economise as much as possible on working to save precious seconds for rechecking at the end. Don’t push that obsession onto them when their goals and skill level is completely different. Especially if they’re:

a) making silly mistakes

b) not understanding why something works and just following the pattern for a specific context, and then being completely lost in another context. (eg. not being able to use the null factor law for when the factors weren’t linear with a gradient of 1, because they always skipped straight to x= instead of actually writing out each factor equalling zero, and then rearranging). 

8. Stop lecturing for too long. Make sure you’re writing stuff down, not only for the purpose of notes for them to look at later, but because not everyone’s good with auditory learning (you’re one of those people! and yet you subject others to the same shit you rant about out length about your professors!). Make them do work through a problem or part of a problem or ask them questions or something. 

9. A lot of kids do not know how to study properly. A few important things:

a) Do not automatically look back at past questions when solving a Q. You need to treat every question as completely new, and only look back if you’re stuck. That way you force active recall every question and thus making sure you’re actually remembering what the process is. You don’t get any worked examples in your exam. 

b) I do not know how this is every single fucking kid but knowing how to use your dang calculator saves lives!! It’s literally 50% of your grade and you’re sitting there two days before your exam struggling to graph a parabola??? After all the hours you poured into studying the content? Yes your calculators are gross and unfriendly but they’re your best friend. Not only should you know how to use them, you should be fast at using them, and you should know everything it can do that could be remotely helpful. 

c) Sit full exam papers under exam conditions. That shit is like gold and kids are piddling it away by just leisurely working through one question at a time with the help of their textbook (and me). 

d) Print out the formula sheet, and use it. Know what’s on there and what’s not. 

I don’t know if this is a pretty standard experience for people with a track record of excellent academic results* (by this I mean just assuming some things are obvious to everyone) or if I’m particularly bad because I’ve always only interacted with a very narrow range of people. anyway feels fucking bad for my kids but. im trying. god knows ive come a long way since i first started.

*or as I prefer to state it, a track record of being a huge fucking nerd

[palegoopbearlight]

Lumiere x Fem!reader

~Changed times~

Summary: Lumiere the talking candelabra from beauty and the beast becomes human again only to find his lost love in the croud of remembering people, but one problem remains. Plumette

Warnings: none i dont think, maybe a bit sad I guess

There you sat in gastons pub, head in the clouds as usual. You had been worried for a while ever since your friend belle had gone missing, you knew her father hadn't done anything even though others had tried to convince you other wise. He loved his daughter why would he do anything to her? You asked yourself that question on repeat.

You hummed to yourself alone in the pub, baybe two or three others were there, luckily no gaston. Hes always tried to use you to get to belle no matter how many times you told him to go away, mid thoughts a loud crash and yelling had come from outside. You gasped standing and raced to the town center when you saw almost everyone causing drama ripping things off stone walls to use and turn into weapons. You were beyond frightened, what was happening? Why is a riot happening? You didn't know the answer untill you looked around to see belle in a lovely yellow dress being man handled and pulled into the "crazy wagon" you called it. (Along with her father)

"No no!" You yelled as you ran towards her to try and help "what are you doing! Why is she off to the crazy house what had she done?"

The intaker looked at you with deep eyes and said "witchcraft." You gasped at his saying and then proceeded to beg him to let your friend go but no luck. You noticed everyone in the town getting on their horses and into their carriages leaving the village to hunt down the beast you remember hearing about from belles father.

You knew the only way to stop any more destruction you had to stop gaston first. But before that you had to help your dear friend escape.

//in the castle//

"Maybe she will come back..." chip sighed as he looked over to his mother Mrs, pot.

Mrs pot gave a sad smile. "I believe she will..." cogsworth scoffed and interrupted. "No she won't. This is the end for us. We won't be here much longer. As midnight approaches the last pedal is going to fall and we will be rubbish." He shook his head as he was hit in the back by lumiere "oh shut it you dont know if she will or not. I have a feeling she will. I beg that she will." He turned to plumette with a soft smile "I must kiss you again my love.. I hope she can come back so I can have that opportunity." He gave his charming smile and plumette chuckled "oh mon chér." She spoke only to be interrupted by the sound of angry villagers. Lumiere looked out the window to see them and glared yelling. "MAN YOUR STATIONS!" He rushed out with the others to find a good spot to sit untill time to attack.

Gaston had a deadly look on his face as he and others broke down the doors to the front castle they all steped in and raised a brow at the odd silence when lefou sat the tea cup and pot sitting on a tray. He smiled and slightly bent down. "You must be the talking tea cup" he then turned to the pot "and you must be its grandmother"

"Grand mother!" Mrs pots shouted "attack!" Just then every house supplies had become alive and started to attack the villagers. Lumiere had plumette spread gun powder everywhere as he lit it on fire causing explosions or other smaller ones. He fought well still with hope belle would return

//village//

You stayed behind to try and help belle as she explained her story and to why the beast was a good guy and not a monster like he's thought of. It almost brought tears to your eyes untill you gave a few more pushes on the door and it still didn't open. You breathed heavily and leaned back against the door

"Belle...this door isn't opening..I cant save you.." you gave up defeated but belle wasn't done yet. She looked at her father and pulled out the rose from her pocket and explained how and where she got it and that made you cry because of house sad it was. Moments after silence you heard the lock click unlatch. You pushed off the door and turned around to see belle quickly getting out of the carriage. You gasped holding onto her nearly breaking her as you jumped into her arms. "Oh my friend I've missed you!" You both confessed then turned to her father "go hurry before gaston does something drastic" he qoughed, you and belle nodded to eachother and hopped on her horse. You both rode as fast as you could to the castle where you noticed ruckus was emanating from. The castle gave you a wierd feeling. Like you've been there before. You gulped and quickly followed belle inside. "Dont hurt the objects there people!" Belle explained to you as you looked around shocked at the sight infront of you. You grew a confident face and nodded, she ran upstairs and you ran to find a weapon. Once you found one that wasn't alive you used it against the other villagers to protect the objects. You didn't kill or seriously injure anyone but you were doing your best to keep from doing that. Lumiere fought from the second floor railing as he looked down to see who was left only to see a beautiful girl he automatically knew from sight.

"Y.n?..." he whisperd to himself shocked malling off the railing and being caught by her aswell. "Oh dear are you alright?" You spoke to the candle but no response from the shocked golden man. You raised a brow confused and set him down going back to your fight when he said your name again. "Y.n..." you froze and turned around looking at the candelabra. "I-.." you couldn't answer untill you god a good look at his face. Even though it was golden you knew that face anywhere, "lumiere?..." you spoke your eyes began to water and your legs began to shake. You were face to face with your long lost love from over 20 years ago, who was now a candle. "Y.n i-" he spoke only for you be be pushed out of the way by a full grown man continuing the fight. Lumiere gasped as he rushed over to try his best to help you.

Once the fight was over the instruments cheered amd celebrated but that died down quickly once realizing it was too late. You were unconscious on the second floor somewhere and lumiere had lost you somewhere mid battle. He was worried he wasn't going to see you before he turned full candle and he was right. He wasn't going to it was too late.

He looked over to plumette giving her a sad nod goodbye then looked at cogsworth who was becoming his full clock

"Goodbye my friend..it was an honor working with you..."

He took one last breath and turned into the candle he was designed to be.

Upstairs you felt yourself wake up not long after they all turned to objects. You sat up and rubbed your head where you were hit. It was sore but you managed to push through it standing up and walking out of the room you were in. You stumbled for a moment but immediately remembered lumiere, you ran downstairs as fast as you could picking up pace with every step. You made your way to the outside to see frozen object that were 9nce people. Your hands raised to your mouth in shock and sorrow. You looked around and finally spotted him. You slowly approached and lifted the candle in your hand as a few tears slipped from your eyes.

"Ive waited all these years and finally found you...and now you're already gone.." you began to cry hysterically setting the candle down and putting your face into your hands. Your crying was ceased when you turned around to see the castle forming into its beautiful white and gold state. You smiled moving away and down the steps to get a better view of it, it made you feel slightly better when you heard his voice again "see my friend we beat the clock!" Your eyes widend and your mouth gapped open. You made your way up the stairs when you heard him say another woman's name. When he came into full view he was kissing another woman... and she was gorgeous. You felt insecure for a moment watching her pat smoke from lumieres head. You wanted to speak but hundreds of other village members came back to see their family members. You were lost in the croyd now towards the farther back. By time lumiere turned back he couldn't see you. He didn't know you were there, but you were, watching every loving moment he had with her like he did with you all those years ago.

Tears dare struck your eyes again but you took a deep breath turning to walk away. On such a happy day it lead to you being heart broken again.

"What was i thinking...I see him after 20 years and he's a candle. Then He becomes human again and chooses someone else over me...already?...no dont be rediculouse hes probably already known her. 20 years its been of course he would want a new companion.."

You felt replaced even though you haven't seen him in 20 years.. "if that pot lady can go back to her husband automatically why couldn't I go back to my lover...I notice shes been loyal to her husband...why couldn't lumiere be loyal to me?.." you were thinking illogicaly while lumiere was in the castle searching for you. But when he had not been able to find you his heart broke yet again. He made his way back to the others upset he worried he wouldn't see you again. And you were already on your horse going back to your village home heartbroken.

[bexatomarama]

Oops, I did it again {Whumptober o10}

We’re in the double digits folks! A little throwback to Pre-War with my Sole Survivor Bennett Zhou. 

Prompt: Hospital | flare-ups | ice chips

He couldn’t get the smell of burnt flesh out of his nose.

That was his first thought as he groggily woke up. A soft beeping to his left, and cool sensation in his left arm. He pulled it gently, feeling tubing pull against his skin. An IV?

His eyes struggled to open, his surroundings blurred and dimmed as he did. His right hand pawed at his face, feeling gauze and metal pin to hold it in place. He explored towards the center of his face and choaked back a scream.

The sensation of heat and pulling, something oozing under the bandages. Fluid filled sacs of something between his brows and bridge of his nose. He’d nearly blacked out as the gauze rubbed against face.

The beeping increased as his heart raced. Clenching his teeth as he pressed his head back into the gurney, pain radiating around his head like a vice.

He tried to recall anything, anything at all. He remembered being on patrol, he was a military journalist after all, taking up the rear as the squad traveled. He often got dispatched with patrol groups to help document and occasionally translate.

Something had happened that evening.

But what?

“Ma’am, we can’t let you into the patient’s room, family only.”

“Nyet.”

His eyes widened beneath the bandages, forehead throbbing at the sensation.

She flew out to see him while he was in recovery.

If anyone could find a way to get onto a military base to see their injured fiancé during war time it would be Nadja Kishka. Her mind was sharp and her familiarity with law and an individual’s rights were nearly unmatched.

Even without his sight, he could feel her presence. She was an imposing woman, tall and broad shouldered, the very picture of a triathlon athlete. She spoke with such confidence and authority, even with her broken English, and carried herself with a sense of purpose.

“Dorogoi! Ah, Benji!”

He heard the soft padding of her feet before making out a shadow over him. He could barely make out any detail of her face or form, now just overjoyed that she had come at all.

Heavy booted steps followed, who ever had stopped her at the door in pursuit, “Ma’am- “

“It’s alright, this is my fiancé, sir.” Bennett spoke up, voice gravely from disuse. He must have been laid up longer than he’d thought. No wonder he didn’t remember.

He saw the shape of Nadja shift towards the officer, a silent challenge. He watched the second shape nod.

“My mistake, soldier. Let me get the head medic, she wanted to see you when you woke up.”

Bennett fumbled to salute, the officer mirroring him before the shadow retreated out. Nadja seemed to relax now that they were alone. She reached for his right hand, free of any iv and squeezed lovingly.

“I can’t believe you came, Nadja,” Bennett covered her hand with his left, smiling widely as he did, “I would have thought you’d have class or be in training!”

She hesitated in her squeezing then, “About that…I could not compete this year.”  

“Huh?”

That was unlike her, she was an integral part of their college alma mater swim team. Her dedication and skill even got her a spot on the U.S Olympic team this year. He’d promised to watch at base when she competed.

Unless an old injury was flaring up on her. Or the stress of having him away on active duty interfered, but he’d only been gone for six months.

“Bennett Zhou?”

Another shadow took over his vision as he turned towards the door.

“I’m glad you’re awake, I’m Major Reyes,” She approached opposite of Nadja, nodding towards her as she did, “Hello, ma’am.”

“Hello, Major Reyes.” He heard Nadja move away from the bed as she spoke, hands resting around her midsection as she stood away.

“This is my fiancé,” Bennett introduced, struggling to sit up straighter on the bed, groaning as he tried.

“It’s fine, she can stay, just please don’t attempt to move right now, Mr. Zhou.” Major Reyes placed a hand against his chest, effectively steeling him in place.

“How much do you remember?”

“Honestly? Nothing after setting out with the patrol.”

Major Reyes nodded solemnly, “Figured as much. Zhou your squad ran into some trouble out there, we don’t know all the details just yet but…”

She trailed off then, keeping her head down before continuing, “Some hometown militia group thought it was a real hoot to lob a few molotovs at you boys. You must have had your face in your camera when it hit, between the flame and the melted plastic well…”

Nadja gasped, hands going to her mouth.

“You have extensive damage to your eyes, as well as a sizable burn in the center of your face. I can’t speak for your vision but, the chance of it being unaffected is very slim.”

Bennett’s heart sank.

“You’ll be discharged on medical grounds; you’ll be heading home as soon the risk of infection dies down.”

He was speechless, couldn’t even find the energy to be frustrated. He nodded solemnly to the information Major Reyes related, unsure when the tears had started to well in his cloudy vision.  

“Would you like anything, Mr. Zhou?”

“No thank you, I’m fine.” Bennett supplied words choaked and guttural.

He turned to Nadja as she added, “Ice chips please.”

“Of course,” Major Reyes nodded before excusing herself from the room.

The pair were silent for a while after. The only sound coming from a nurse bringing Nadja a cup of ice chips and congratulating her on something.

Her soft ‘thank you’ was deafening in the silence that followed.

He sneered, what was there to congratulate.

Any future he dreamed was slowly dwindling before him, without his sight he couldn’t work. His degree was useless, and the only money he’d bring in to support his future wife and family would be significantly lessened.

“Benji,” Nadja took his hand once more, rubbing her thumb reassuringly against his knuckles.

“It’s going to be ok; we’ll manage.” He didn’t see the wide smile that graced her features as she set his rough hand over her swollen belly, “All three of us.”

The heart rate monitor to his right went wild. He couldn’t help his own lips from twitching up into a wide grin. She was pregnant. They were going to have a baby.

“I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it!” She cackled then, “That night at the park before you left was really something, huh?” She teased him then, leaning down to rest his hand against her cheek.

He blushed, offering a coy chuckle. Who could forget that night? Six months ago, a week or so before his deployment.

Six months.

His grin faltered for a moment; this is why she couldn’t compete this year. It wasn’t stress or some injury flare-up. He’d gotten her pregnant.

Her Olympic career was over before it even started.

“Nadja this is amazing, you’re amazing.” He offered sheepishly, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind.

I don’t deserve you.

Nadja sat on the foot of his bed, munching ice chips, and regaling him with stories from back home. He smiled as she did, adding his own color commentary as he listened. She was overjoyed, even if she missed her chance, just so happy she’d get her man back home safe and start a family.

But, in the back of his mind, the guilt grew.

He’d ruined her life.

[bookwyrminspiration]

hello quil! it's been a bit, but i hope youre doing alright! If you have finals, i hope they're going well, and that if you celebrate it, you're having an upcoming happy christnas/ne year/winterbreak season!

ive had absolutely no time to read most anneething lately, but over winrer i'm plnning to attempt to catch up on the wings au, because it's been lookin really cool!

^ fluffy cowwww

hello!! Thank you for checking in that’s very sweet!!

I do have finals, but I’m almost done!! I’ve done both of the like timed question ones, but I’ve got one more to go! It’s not like those tho, it’s an easy one. But!! So close to the end!

I don’t really celebrate Christmas, but I have enough family who do that it kinda just leaks into my life and I take advantage of the opportunity to give gifts to people. And I won’t really get a full break cause I’m taking a class over the break, but!! In spirit I will be taking a break! Once I get from family trip that is, but aside from that!!

For the wings au: if/when you catch up, I hope you like it! I got to reveal Linh’s wings in the last episode and I’m looking forward to drawing them when I get the chance. There is so much going on in it right now that I only hope I can live up to half the standards I have set for myself.

But don’t feel pressured to read it! It’s always going to be there!! I’ll just be chipping away at it until I’m done!!

And thank you for the fluffy cow!! I’ll probably see cows on my family trip next week but none of them are fluffy like that. That cow looks it’s having a fantastic time

If you have finals too I hope they go well!! Definitely a stressful time but I believe in you!!

[retvenkos]

he smiles // mordred

Merlin (BBC) - Mordred x Fem!Reader, fluff

A/N: 8.1k words!!! i didn’t think it was in me, but i clearly love mordred more than i should...

Summary: There had been time for them to bask in each other’s presence, to feel their souls intertwine as their paths converged onto the same road. For, in those days, few as they were, Mordred and (Y/n) shared a common destination and their fates were one.

i.

brother, you could never understand the beauty in his eyes and the pain reflected there. i have found legends of the most desolate of places with the most gruesome of histories and none of them compare to the look in his eyes. he has been rubbed raw of everything he’s loved and has been chipped away of everything he once was.

but he is beautiful, brother, when the stars are resting in the black night of his hair and when the ivy climbs his skin like a statue of marble.

and when he smiles…

is there beauty that could compare?

ii.

Laughter, warmth, and wine filled the Banquet Hall. Knights celebrated, feasting and drinking to good fortune, speaking with one another in their usual, rowdy tones. Music played and merriment filled the hearts of every soldier and guest in the room.

Instead of sitting at the high table where his father had sat before him, King Arthur was amongst his people, Guinevere at his side, speaking to the man that was cause for celebration; Mordred. An old acquaintance and new ally, this young man was knighted earlier that day and the newest recruit was being honored the only way Camelot knew how.

Mordred was smiling, disbelief clinging to the edges of his mouth, hope blooming roses on his cheeks, underneath his skin. His joy was more subdued than that of those who surrounded him, but it seemed as though the happiness that clung to him was the most pure and full joy he had ever experienced in all his years on Earth.

(Y/n) had yet to meet Modred when Gwaine grabbed her arm and took her over to where his fellow knights were huddled together, in the center of the hall.

“Gwaine,” (Y/n) huffed, following her older brother, despite her initial reaction of refusing, “what is it, this time?”

“You haven’t greeted the King and Queen! Guinevere was wondering if you had gotten holed up in the library again, archiving histories no one’s ever going to read.” Gwaine’s voice bubbled with glee, the mead he had drunk already taking effect on his mood, making him even more playful than usual.

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you didn’t want me talking to the ladies at court? I heard a pretty blonde knows you better than I.”

Gwaine grabbed another drink from a nearby servant and took a swig of it. “If she knew me better than you, she wouldn’t have talked to me the way she did.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Apparently she spends quite a lot of time in your chambers, as well.” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow and stole her brother's mead, taking a drink of it herself.

“We’ve been getting better acquainted.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and Gwaine laughed, taking his drink back, only to find it empty. He nudged her in the ribs with a playful scowl before letting go of her arm and nodding to the Queen. He disappeared into the crowd after that, leaving his younger sister to bow and exchange formalities.

“My Lady.”

“(Y/n),” Guinevere smiled, laughing at the title she now wore. Her spirits, too, had been lifted by the contents of her goblet, and the candle-lit hall seemed to be painted in rosy hues. “You know you can call me Gwen.”

“But that isn’t nearly as fun.”

(Y/n) bowed once more, her eyebrows raised in jest and Guinevere shook her head. “Have you met Sir Mordred?”

“No, I’ve not.”

“Well, then,” Guinevere led (Y/n) a few paces deeper into the throng of knights and very quickly found who she was looking for. She smiled triumphantly when she did and put a hand on the shoulder of a man turned away from her. “Sir Mordred, this is Lady (Y/n).”

The knight turned around, (Y/n)’s gaze met his, and the world around them slowed. Her heartbeat quickened and her breath caught as his blue eyes shook her to her core, seemingly looking right into her soul, finding the pure gold that lay at the heart of her very being. In that moment, which stretched into infinity for them but never left the stream of time for others, (Y/n) could see the most beautiful sky form in his eyes.

And she knew the poets to be right in their rambles of beauty and desire and all that fell in between.

“Sir Mordred,” (Y/n) bowed low, long lashes kissing her cheeks and allowing her a second of relief from his intoxicating gaze.

He breathed her name and it sounded like a forgotten memory; like something that was all at once fondly missed and discovered anew.

“I see you’ve met my sister!” Gwaine’s strong voice shattered the still moment efficiently. The knight clapped Mordred on the shoulder with a strength that could have made mountains crumble, but Modred did not move. “She works with Geoffrey of Monmouth in the Royal Library.”

“She’s the brain to his brawn,” Guinevere supplied with a grin, a twinkle in her eye.

“And the beauty,” (Y/n) teased, earning a laugh from Guinevere and a protest from Gwaine. Through the laughing, (Y/n) caught Mordred’s keen eye as it lingered on her.

iii.

brother, i cannot describe it, but there is a kindness in his bones. it is so deeply rooted in the fabric of his being that it cannot be separated without destroying him - picking him apart piece by piece, excavating his soul until it becomes a cavern, stripped of it’s jewels and metals.

the heavens treat him as though he is a part of them. the sun haloes around his head like a crown, like he is an angel on earth.

and, brother, when he smiles…

the skies above clear just for him.

iv.

(Y/n) walked through the castle, purpose quickening her step, her mind stuck in days gone by, those scholars called the Great Purge. She had been translating history texts written in languages that had died with the Old Religion, and had come across a mention of a sorceress she had not heard of in her many years of learning. Geoffrey of Monmouth, the keeper of the library, had told her to take the name to Gaius in search of more information.

“If the sorceress does, indeed, exist,” Geoffrey had told her, “then there is great reason to believe she did not perish in the Great Purge and the king must be warned.”

(Y/n) understood the danger that a sorceress could present to the kingdom, which fueled her haste in going to Gaius’ chambers, but hesitation pricked at the back of her mind, making her avert her eyes from those around her.

Was a sorceress inherently evil? It went against all her beliefs to concede to that idea. She had always been taught that evil was a thing to be cultivated, it was not the natural state of mankind. Then how could it be justified, slaughtering her before she has committed a crime? All men face hardships that poison them with the potential for great evil, yet they are not senselessly killed. But with times being what they were - with Morgana threatening everything Camelot stood for…

The sound of swords clanging disrupted her thoughts, and (Y/n) stopped to calm her mind.

The world was a hard place to navigate through and come out unscathed. There were times when (Y/n) thought it just might be impossible. Sometimes, it seemed that humans were made to bleed. Skin was made fragile for a reason, after all.

Swords clashed together once more, and (Y/n) turned to the source of the noise. The knights (just as she has suspected) were honing their sword fighting skills, the men engaged in one on one combat. Her eyes immediately found Gwaine, who was sparring with Percival, both of them clearly taunting the other. (Y/n) rolled her eyes at their antics, chuckling when Percival was able to get the jump on Gwaine, delivering a harsh blow that her brother was only just able to block, stumbling backward.

Her eyes drifted, then, to Mordred, who was sparring with Elyan. As she gazed at the pair, (Y/n) found herself under his spell once more. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his jaw was set; he looked lethal, like a dangerous poison had been unleashed in his bloodstream and was ready to consume everything in its path. (Y/n) looked deeper into his eyes, expecting a hurricane to be raging within but found no animosity there.

Mordred; like all men; like the sorceress who’s name she had on a scrap of paper, tight in her fist; had the capability to be cruel in this harsh world, but it was not in his nature. She could see that in his soul, and the fact that she could see it from such a distance was a testament to that goodness and beauty she had seen in the Banquet Hall, only a day prior.

King Arthur called for his men to cease their training. Swords no longer clashed. Mordred’s eyes locked with (Y/n)’s.

She smiled politely and he nodded to her, his own mouth curling upward, slightly; a look that was meant for her, and no one else. (Y/n)’s breath caught in her chest. The ache that lingered there was pleasant and bearable, when she remembered who had left it.

Gwaine saw his sister and called to her. (Y/n) snapped her attention to him and waved.

Then, with one last glance at the knight who had caught her attention, she continued on her path to Gaius’ chambers, her thoughts straying from the sorceress at hand, her cheeks warm and heart hammering.

v.

brother, there is a knowledge in his voice that could drown the world in sorrows. he speaks and his words are heavy enough to bury us all alive. but that is not who he is. for, brother, when he looks at me with eyes like diamonds forged far beneath the ground, i see a light that he has created within.

it is warm and kind and believes in the world this one could become. how has he fallen in love with this world when it has come to him broken, already in shambles?

i do not know, but when he smiles…

could the world really be this way?

vi.

The gossip ladies shared while dining was, for the most part, colorful but frivolous. Most of the time it was rumors about a prince who couldn’t banish his feelings for a commoner or a princess who couldn’t hold her tongue while in the presence of men. It was spoken of in tones that made it sound more interesting than it was, and it was passed through the table like another dish they were being served.

(Y/n) listened and engaged with it at yet another banquet, thrown in the aftermath of yet another victory over sorcery. The music played energetically, and as the wine flowed, the painted lips of women loosened and their words came freely.

“That Sir Mordred,”—(Y/n)’s ears perked at the sound of his name—“he’s grown awfully close to the King, hasn’t he?”

The lady who spoke tilted her head and her friends urged her to continue - to finish the thought that was stewing inside her head.

She smiled wickedly, lowering her voice and leaning in, “I’ve heard nasty whispers about where he’s from - no one really knows, but some think he’s a slave-trader, and others…” she paused for affect, and when the music played loudly again, she divulged, “others say he might be a Druid.”

The ladies gasped and (Y/n) felt bile rise in her throat. Suddenly, she wished the gossip to stop - for the music to become so loud that the lady who sat across from her wouldn’t be able to finish the vile thought that she was already speaking.

“If he hadn’t saved King Arthur’s life… Well, we know where he would be.”

(Y/n) stood up in a flash, her jaw set, her eyes angry and frightened, her nerves a mess. The ladies startled and turned to her, but the rest of the celebration carried on. The music still played, the instruments now shrill and jarring, the voices of men suddenly harsh and cruel. (Y/n) was suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd - their fanged grins and ravenous eyes, the hate and anger that lay in their hearts.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves.” (Y/n)’s lips quivered, but her words rang true. The women at the table looked at her, their mouths working soundlessly.

With no further ceremony, (Y/n) left, walking through the castle, letting the sounds of the Banquet Hall fade behind her. Unsure of where she could clear her racing mind, (Y/n) let her legs take her where they pleased.

She stopped in the middle of the balcony corridor, the gentle wind calming her mind, the moon above reflecting a soft, steady light that played against the stone beneath her. The only sound here was her skirts grazing the floor. The stillness calmed her. She sighed and leaned against the stone wall, turning her face to the inky night sky.

What had angered her? She looked at the stars scattered across the sky and wondered at her own actions. Had it been the ladies questioning who Mordred was? No, people were always questioning from where people hailed. It was a way to understand a person without ever knowing them - it was an easy way to allow comfort when in the presence of a stranger. Had it been them accusing him of being a Druid? Perhaps. But, then again, it was not the Druids that had angered her. What had brought her to stand was the implication of what could befall him if he were, indeed, a part of them.

It was dangerous to be something more than just flesh and blood. For there to be rumors, there had to be doubt - and if there was the smallest ounce of doubt in the hearts of those most adamant in the war against magic…

It was not fair - none of it: the rumors, the fear, the suspicion, the deaths of innocents. There was no crime in being born. There was no evil in having been created with skills that few understood. Nothing was inherently wicked, so then how could magic be persecuted as such?

(Y/n) sighed. Perhaps she cared too much. What good could she do, at the end of the day? Being a magic sympathizer only passed suspicion on those you cared for. Was it wise, then, to speak the way she did, to let her feelings be known?

“(Y/n),” a voice called from the shadows, disturbing the silence that had given the woman peace of mind, only moments before. (Y/n) spun around, feeling guilty, her heart beating louder.

It was Mordred, dressed in a knight’s finest, his expression impassive in the moonlight. (Y/n) calmed when she saw it was him who had called for her, but heat rushed to her face.

“Mordred,” she smiled, despite herself, and the dim light played against the curve of her mouth. “I didn’t hear you come. Is the celebration over, already?”

“No,” he answered, walking over to stand beside her, a respectful distance between the two, “I doubt it’s going to end anytime soon.” (Y/n)’s hands itched to be nearer to his, and she folded them together to occupy them. “But what brought you out here?”

“Some of the women I dined with are not as kind in their hearts as they should be.” (Y/n) gazed into the never ending sky, wondering how the stars burned so bright in such a dark expanse. Did their warmth, too, come from within? Did they see Mordred below and feel the same heat fill them so completely? She couldn’t imagine feeling any other way, in his presence. “They may be at court, but they are not nearly as deserving as others.”

Mordred’s eyes twinkled with mirth, like tiny stars igniting in blue skies, although (Y/n) did not seem to notice, her gaze still searching the night around them. He looked at her admiringly, his eyes tracing the curves and dips of her profile - that serene face that drew him out of himself and towards her.

“None of them have any idea of what it’s like to be an outsider, but their judgements of others are swift and cruel.” She turned to him, hesitant to see his reaction.

(Y/n)’s words, so sincere, so carefully chosen, turned Mordred’s face into something softer - something (Y/n) had only seen once before, but felt like she knew more deeply than anything else. “Nobility knows nothing of the suffering they can inflict.” He held her gaze when he spoke, and his words were a melodious lament - almost a siren’s call, pulling (Y/n) deeper into his depths. He sighed, his eyes averting from her own. “But everyone pays for their soul, in the end.”

“Then let ours be pure of heart while we’re still here.” (Y/n) leaned heavier against the stone before her, her shoulders falling deeper, her forearms bearing her weight. She tilted her head to look at Mordred beside her, and he relaxed in a similar manner.

“This world needs more people with your ideals.” Mordred complimented her and heat flooded (Y/n)’s cheeks. He regarded her with a smile - small and conspiratorial, like a soft embrace.

“You can thank my brother for any beliefs I hold. He was the only man to teach me how to rise above what I am.”

The wind visited them once more, weaving through their hair, twisting Mordred’s cape and twirling (Y/n)’s skirts. (Y/n) leaned into its caress, her eyes closing for a brief moment, her entire being becoming one with the heavens above.

“You’re lucky to have each other. Being alone isn’t easily shaken.” A shadow came over Mordred’s eyes, heavy and dark.

(Y/n) turned to the man beside her, her lips parting as she moved to say something.

She was untimely interrupted by Gwaine calling for her. She held Mordred’s gaze for a moment longer, as though debating whether or not to stay and say something more, but when her brother called again, she obeyed.

vii.

brother, he lives with such gravity. every breath is a gust of wind, every step is a tremor in the earth. he is so heavy on this earthly plane, the world presses down on him as though he were made to carry it upon his shoulders.

and yet, when he is still and the world stops around him, he looks weightless, as though he could fly. and brother, when he soars above me he is an angel out of reach, a dream beyond imagining.

and then he smiles…

is there freedom such as this?

viii.

(Y/n) held her skirts in her hands, running through the castle’s corridors, taking the familiar path to Gaius’ chambers. Weaving in and out of people who were in her way, her mind raced faster than her legs. It was only by luck that the gossip of the servants reached her, and she hadn’t a moment to lose.

The King had gone on a patrol to the Black Mountains that morning, and when they had come back…

The servant’s weren’t clear in what had happened, but Mordred was wounded - carried into Gaius’ chambers by Arthur and Merlin.

To be wounded was one thing; but to be carried into the castle by the King, himself? (Y/n) didn’t know what to think, but she feared the worst. Her heart was beating faster than ever, a drum to which her anxieties chanted inside her skull.

Still running, her feet slapping the stone incessantly, she turned a corner and stumbled headlong into someone walking the opposite way. (Y/n) muttered an apology as she started to dodge the obstacle, but whoever it was moved in her path once more, grabbing her shoulders with a tight grip.

“(Y/n), what’s the matter?”

It was Gwaine, his brows furrowed in worry.

“It’s not me you need to worry about,” she all but snapped, her tone clipped from worry. “Were you with Mordred?”

“He’s with Gaius, now.” Gwaine’s worry started to melt away, seeing his sister unharmed by the day’s events, but (Y/n) shared none of his relief. “He’ll be fine,” Gwaine repeated, trying to reassure her by catching her eye.

“What happened?” Her voice and lower lip shook, her nerves frayed and unable to settle. “I - I heard rumors, and—”

“—And you won’t settle down until you see for yourself. I know.” A smile slowly grew on Gwaine’s face, and he wrapped an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder, walking with her to Gaius’ chambers. In all their years together he had become the father his younger sister never had, and learned her better than any lesson he had been given in his entire life. Gwaine knew his sister, and he knew she wouldn’t be able to still without absolute confirmation.

He slowed her eager pace, trying to soothe her before she saw what lay within the physician’s chambers.

“So,” he began, a grin already plastered onto his face, “you’re that worried about Mordred?”

(Y/n) felt herself burn from embarrassment.

“Not not, Gwaine. He could by dying!”

Her brother laughed and allowed her to see the knight she fretted over. She rushed to his side, and the pallor in his cheeks made her stomach twist in knots. She brushed his raven hair off of his forehead, feeling his fever. She looked to see if his eyes moved behind his lids or if his chest rose as he breathed inward, but he didn’t seem to respond to life at all. She whispered a prayer under her breath before turning to Gaius, already questioning what was wrong and what could be done.

“There is old sorcery at work - knowledge beyond my understanding.” Gaius’ words were uncertain and he shook his head just slightly, as though he had already concluded the worst. “The Disir were said to be a most sacred court with power unimaginable.”

The Disir. (Y/n) knew their name from stories she had translated from dead languages to that which was spoken, now. If Mordred had been stuck by a force so revered and entrenched in the Old Religion...

“But there could be a cure?” (Y/n)’s tone was adamant in their desperate hope - far more so than her thoughts. Gaius looked at her as though he saw something deep inside her gaze, and eventually conceded.

“Perhaps… in the texts of the Old Religion…”

(Y/n) was out of the physician’s chambers and racing down the hall before he could finish. She had no practical skills in medicine, but she was an archivist. She knew languages and history, and due to her position, she had unlimited access to the Royal Library. If there was an answer between the pages Camelot stored, she would find it and use it to save him.

The candles in the Royal Library burned brighter than usual, lighting the shelves that lay in dark, unused corners. (Y/n) situated herself amongst the shelves she knew had to keep the secrets she so desired, choosing books from the rows. She lost herself in piles of ancient texts, her hands careful and precise as they skimmed down page after page, searching for an answer. Volume after volume was pulled from its resting pace, meticulously scoured, and replaced once more.

Geoffrey of Monmouth allowed the candles to be burned all night long, eventually retiring for the evening and leaving (Y/n) to her search, giving her a fond, supportive squeeze on the shoulder before shuffling away. Servants still gossipped out in the corridors, their voices drifting like ghosts to where she sat. Gwaine came to her before his nightly rounds of the castle began, and found her sitting on the floor, her skirts pooled around her as she continued her search. She was desperate for some kind of news, but Gwaine had none; Mordred’s condition was unchanged and dire, still. Tears threatened her eyes and he had taken the time to embrace her, rubbing her back soothingly, promising her things would be alright.

(Y/n) clung to his faith, feeling the crushing weight of gravity bearing down on her. How could people live with such pain?

She felt herself grow tired. She opened more books. She felt herself grow tired. She flipped more pages. She felt herself grow tired. She sought more answers, feeling them slip through her fingertips - elusive and intangible. She felt herself grow tired.

The candle burned lower until she could no longer feel it’s warmth - until she could no longer see it in her mind’s eye.

In her dreams, she could see pages before her, with drawings of three women in robes of black, with writing that was slanted and almost unable to be read. (Y/n) reached out to grab the page, hold it in her grasp and learn it’s secrets, but her body was heavy like stone, unable to move - unable to save him.

“(Y/n)...” Mordred’s voice called out to her, so full of life, so full of love. She stirred. “(Y/n)...” She moved.

(Y/n)’s eyes opened, and she was lying against a shelf, a volume open on her lap. Light from the morning sun spilled from the nearby window, and when she looked up, she had to blink to believe it was real.

Mordred smiled down at her, his cheeks pink and flushed with beauty, his eyes bright. He was something out of a dream, in that moment, the sun’s rays casting the shadows away from him, bathing him in golden light.

His name slipped from her lips in wonder, and she repeated it once more, euphoria filling her tone with something akin to a song.

“I was told I could find you here.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him long enough to hide it.

ix.

we could never see it, brother, with our lives painted in such rosy tones, but his world is drenched in stormy, blue waters. it is salt rubbed into wounds and waves battering stone until they erode away. it was not a crucible that forged him, but an ocean that drowned him and left him washed on shore, gasping for breath. brother, his story is one that we whisper at night, voices low in fear of giving those wayward souls power over us all. if he so desired, we could be crushed and left. the crows would pick us clean.

but he looks at me and his ocean eyes cradle me, rocking me back and forth with the tide. and i am safe, in his embrace. i am loved, wrapped in his arms.

and when he smiles…

our story has yet to unfold.

x.

(Y/n) looked at the wares of different vendors, strolling through the streets with no real destination in mind. The day was beautiful, with the sun partially covered with thick clouds, the heat emanating from it just enough to be comfortable and without chill. The people around her were happy, for the most part, their worries few and their good fortune abundant.

There was peace in Camelot, and (Y/n) wished - foolishly, perhaps - that it would last.

Stopping to search for coins to buy a loaf of bread, (Y/n) readjusted the basket she held and a book she had been carrying fell out. Before she could lean down to grab it, the book was already in someone else’s hands, being wiped clean. “I’m sorry about that.” (Y/n) looked up to see who had helped her and found Mordred before her. He had a grin on his face, lopsided and pulled to the left, his teeth just visible beneath his lips.

His sharp eyes were on the small volume before him, reading the title with interest (Y/n) had not thought she would find.

Mordred shrugged off her apology, instead turning his interest to that which he had recovered. “Poetry?” (Y/n) shifted under his teasing gaze. “Is it for the King, perhaps?”

(Y/n) scoffed, well aware of the joke that had been floating through the palace - Merlin and King Arthur learning poetry by candlelight. Was the Queen impressed with her husband’s talents? Leon had been given extra training for two weeks when word of it reached Arthur.

“The King and I have very different tastes in poetry, I believe. He’s more of a romantic.”

Mordred snorted, flipping through the worn pages. “These poems…” Mordred’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his tone still gentle when he spoke, but his countenance changed nonetheless. “They’re about magic.”

(Y/n) bowed her head, training her eyes at her skirts brushing the ground below.

She had been caught.

It was just literature, and she didn’t believe there was any harm in it. Poetry could not teach her sorcery. The knowledge that lay in those poems were not spells that she could wield against Camelot and those she loved, and yet, she knew, deep down, that such things would not matter to those who would wish to persecute her for harboring such knowledge and allowing it into her home.

“They’re just poems. Just stories written in beautiful languages. There’s no harm in it, only understanding.” (Y/n)’s words were low but spoken with conviction and heart. “I only wish to understand that which I am to fear.”

“And I admire you all the more for it.”

(Y/n) looked up into Mordred’s eyes where she held his tender gaze. Her worries were put to ease by his serenity, and she idly wondered why she has ever been nervous in the first place. Even now, she could look into his gaze and see the kindness that lay deep within his heart. Within those blue eyes, she could see his sympathy for magic, not dissimilar from her own, but more deeply sown. She could see, deep in his soul, that there was something he knew and had not shared.

She wished to tell him she wouldn’t tell a soul. (Y/n) wished to hold Mordred and whisper in his ear that he could bare his entire soul to her and she would regard him the same. She wished to let him know that she knew him deeply and irrevocably, that in those still moments when they walked with one another or locked eyes from across the room, she felt their souls were one and she could not distinguish where one began and the other ended.

“Would you like to hear some?” (Y/n) put her hand on the book lightly, her fingers brushing his, warmth igniting where they touched. “The old way of speaking… it’s beautiful.”

Mordred smiled and she slipped the book out of his hands, starting to leaf through the pages, searching for the right sentiment she was looking for.

He spoke, then, his words soft and with a lyrical lilt, whispered between the two of them. (Y/n) gazed up at him, and it took her a moment to realize that he was reciting a poem - a variation of one of the poems inside the book she had in her hands. She listened to him, allowing his language to captivate her senses and pluck at her heartstrings. The poetry spoke of magic - it’s ubiquitous power and intentionless existence - and how the world, whether it wanted to be or not, was gifted with it.

When he finished, (Y/n) realized that the warmth that had spread through her body had made her lips pull into an expression of awed wonder. She tried to regain control over her features, but Mordred had already seen her beauty and wouldn’t forget it for all his days.

Mordred took (Y/n)’s hands in his and closed the poetry book, placing it back in her basket. “Keep that safe,” he said. “It’s not wise to have poetry about magic in Camelot.”

(Y/n) started to grin, staring up at him challengingly. “And to have it committed to memory? Is that just as guilty?”

Mordred chuckled, but after a moment, his face turned grave. “In Camelot, I believe so.”

“Then Camelot is too harsh with matters of magic.”

Mordred did nothing but nod.

xi.

there is a ferocity deep within him, brother. it has the strength of a bear and the loyalty wolf; baring its teeth and tearing out throats. he keeps it deep within himself, burrowed beneath the ground, hidden amongst the trees.

it is strong, brother, but he is it’s master. he has run with the wolves and become one with the pack. he has faced the bear and made peace with its power. he has a strength inside of him that cannot be changed, and it protects this world from what he could be. and i stare at him, in awe of the power which he possesses within.

and when he smiles…

he is nothing i could not love.

xii.

The forest around them teemed with life - birds singing from the treetops, the undergrowth shaking from the movement of small animals, and the nearby brook babbling. (Y/n) breathed in deeply, the smell of the fresh air clearing her mind and filling her senses with a feeling of calm. Absentmindedly, she fiddled with the bad slung around her shoulder, the books inside of it slapping against her thighs as she rode her horse forward. Mordred, riding alongside her, looked at her from the corner of his eye, but she did not notice his gaze through her pleasant sigh.

They were riding to Carleon - Sir Mordred escorting the Royal Archivist - to meet with the genealogist that worked for Queen Annis. Geoffrey of Monmouth found a discrepancy in their bookkeeping of the old, noble families and needed to compare his records with the other kingdom, but at his age he was far too old to undertake such an adventure - especially at such a critical time in Camelot’s history. (Y/n) had been sent in his place, her expertise growing with every day that passed, the old librarian sharing his knowledge and legacy with the woman so that she might one day succeed him.

It was to be a fairly safe journey. Carleon was an ally of Camelot, and the two kingdoms were not far from one another. King Arthur had allowed Mordred to escort the woman, his warnings minimal - only that Mordred not forget his duty while protecting (Y/n).

Gwaine had been there to see the pair off, teasing (Y/n) of her feelings for the young knight.

“I believe your love life is the one we need to keep an eye on, Gwaine.” Her brother had laughed at that, and she told him to behave while she was gone. The last thing she needed was to worry about him while traveling to another kingdom.

Their journey so far had been a peaceful one. The two had time to talk about all that had happened in Camelot - from the gossip of what happened in the lower towns to the battles that the knights had waged in the name of the King. After that, there had been time to talk about the histories she had been translating and scribing; the worlds that she learned about on weathered pages were vibrant in their age and charming in their customs and habits - all of which had betweitched her, ensnaring her attention.

Mordred had deep interest in what had come before him - those millenia in which magic reigned, free - and (Y/n) was happy to share her passion with someone who listened and cared.

There had been time for them to bask in each other’s presence, to feel their souls intertwine as their paths converged onto the same road. For, in those days, few as they were, Mordred and (Y/n) shared a common destination and their fates were one.

Now, there was less than a two hour ride left, and with the end in sight, (Y/n)’s anxieties started to claw their way into her heart. She closed her eyes and focused on the world in front of her, this forest of bright yellows and deep greens, this sanctuary where she and Mordred were together, close enough to get lost in each other’s eyes for eternity.

“How much do you think Gwaine has worried while we’ve been gone?” (Y/n) smiled at the knight who rode beside her, her tone fighting to be as light and cheerful as the words she spoke. “I saw him talking to you before we left. What did he—”

A high-pitched scream that was not their own erupted into the sky. With a flash of metal, Mordred had unsheathed his sword and was riding for where the sound originated. (Y/n) followed, and when they burst into a clearing, they found it to be full of bandits surrounding an elderly man and his daughter. Without a second thought, Mordred sprung into action.

(Y/n) grabbed a sword from one of the bandits that Mordred felled and joined him in battle, her strikes proper and effective, although unceremonious and without the craft of a true swordsman. Mordred spared her an impressed glance before engaging with the rest of the marauders.

Surprise was their biggest advantage, and the two of them were able to dispose of four of the bandits quickly. The rest of the men ran, reasoning that the spoils weren’t worth the risk involved, now that a knight of Camelot was among them.

After the last of the men disappeared into the trees, (Y/n) dropped the sword she had been using, looking over the scrapes and minor flesh wounds she had received. Mordred walked over to her, his own eyes scanning her for injury, and she reassured him she was fine, her eyes moving to search him.

“Where did you learn to use a sword?”

(Y/n) scoffed, the adrenaline still buzzing through her veins. “Gwaine. Who else would arm a young girl against her will? He said I would need to one day.” A grin tugged at her lips. “I suppose he was right.”

Mordred smiled briefly and the two of them turned to the people who had cried out for help. The elderly man thanked them, taking their young hands in his own and blessing them good fortune for days to come.

“Such kindness is lacking in the world, today, when it is most needed.”

“We are just glad we could be of assistance to you and your daughter.” Mordred dipped his head low, and his voice echoed with past transgressions - moments of his past where he was a victim to circumstance, just as they were. “No one deserves such violence and pain.”

The old man peered at Mordred with years of wisdom, and he squeezed his shoulder like a father would. “You have such good souls”—he looked at (Y/n), as well, with a kind twinkle in his eye—“both of you.”

“Good souls are hard to come by.” (Y/n) agreed, gently. “They’re a rare treasure, indeed.”

Mordred looked at her, his eyes like the sky on a cloudless day. She regarded their bright brilliance with a warm glance and roses of the most vibrant pinks blossomed beneath his cheeks.

Later, after the travelers had gone on their way, and the two were riding for Carleon once more, (Y/n) found the courage to speak something that she had been thinking on for a while, but had only articulated just then.

“Mordred, when we were fighting those bandits…” her words trailed off, but Mordred was patient as he waited for them. “I know we’re only human - average and simple - but when I’m at your side, I feel stronger than that - better, even. It’s almost like…”

Silence didn’t stay between them, long.

“Like you have magic.”

xiii.

brother, we live such violent lives and meet such violent ends, but his life is precious in it’s softness and should never die on the end of a blade. this world has rubbed his edges with stone to sharpen them to fine points, but he wraps himself in soft down and refuses to be changed.

this life he lives deserves to be full, brother, with none of the emptiness that has surrounded him for so long. so much has been taken from him, so much of what he owns has been displaced. and so he holds me as though i am already gone.

but when i am resolute beside him, he smiles…

could the world bear to tear us apart?

xiv.

“All I’m saying is that Mordred is a lucky man to have caught my little sister’s eye.”  Gwaine held up his hands in mock defeat as the two of you walked down the castle steps and into the Citadel. “How many people have you turned down over the years? I vividly remember at least three…”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at her brother’s teasing, quickly shooting back, “And for every person I turn down, you lead another to your chambers.”

Gwaine feigned hurt, but a grin grew on his lips all the same. “I have more honor than that, (N/n).”

“More tact, you mean. If Arthur were to see you—” Gwaine nudged (Y/n) in the side and she laughed good-naturedly, elbowing him right back.

“But, truly, (Y/n). Mordred is a fine knight and if the two of you—”

“Gwaine...” (Y/n)’s face was hot with embarrassment and her brother smiled down at her, affection in his gaze.

“I would be happy, is all” —he tilted his head, then, his lips pulled into a thoughtful frown— “and a bit proud.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Exactly what I always wanted.” The two laughed, and once the moment sobered, (Y/n) turned to Gwaine, her expression genuine and earnest. “But really, thank you.”

Gwaine put a tender hand on her shoulder, squeezing it strongly. He opened his mouth to say something, but the clapping sound of horse hooves hitting stone caught his attention, and both siblings turned to see who was approaching.

An entire patrol of soldiers burst into the Citadel, many of them leaning over, their expressions drawn in pain and suffering. (Y/n)’s eyes searched frantically until they settled on Mordred, his expression grim and worried, but the rest of him seemingly okay. Gwaine walked over to him and he dismounted, both Knights meeting each other half-way.

“What happened?”

“We were attacked.” Mordred’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. “It was Morgana.”

“And you got away?” (Y/n) walked over to them, her eyes scanning over the injuries that the patrol had sustained. Almost all of them had a bruise or two, some of them with gashes on the head or sides. What had she done?

“It’s the King she wants,” Mordred sighed. “She’s just trying to draw him out.”

Gwaine nodded deftly, his brow furrowing as his entire disposition changed. “I’ll let Arthur know,” he assured Mordred, putting a hand on his arm before leaving.

(Y/n) watched as Mordred turned back to the men behind him, checking their wounds and sending them to Gaius if necessary. She watched his face contort with worry as he passed over each man, his eyes filled with care and legitimate attentiveness to each of their circumstances. The soldiers smiled gratefully at him, as though thanking Mordred for showing them that they were seen. In such a large military, it was easy to get lost in the sea of hundreds; people stopped becoming human and were just another sword in combat, just another body left on the battlefield. But here, under Mordred’s worried gaze, they were human. Bleeding, battered, and bruised people with hearts that were broken and minds that were screaming in the silence.

The love that resided within Mordred was quiet, but (Y/n) could see it from any distance and behind any facade.

When the last soldier was tended to, Mordred made his way over to (Y/n) and she looked at him deeply, with a soft care that made him feel entirely known and wholly loved. “Are you alright?” Her voice was low and pleading, careful but firm. “Morgana didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m alright.”

(Y/n) looked at him, her eyebrows still furrowed as she searched his expression for something to tell her the contrary. Finding nothing, she sighed and reached out to embrace him, holding Modred close to her beating chest.

He melted against her slowly, then all at once. His arms moved to wrap around her more securely and she responded to his touch, her hand getting lost in his hair. The pair stayed like that, enveloped in each other’s arms, until their hearts synced together and beat as one.

“Things happen so quickly Mordred,” she spoke without pulling away, her breath hot against his ear, “I don’t want you to be someone that passes by without me ever telling you how much you mean to me.”

Mordred hugged her tighter, until he felt he couldn’t breathe from her love. “Nothing can happen to me while I have you to live for.”

(Y/n) pulled away slowly, her eyes questioning whether or not he meant what he said. Mordred’s smile was in full bloom, adoration and love pouring out from him with no end in sight. She stared into his deep, blue eyes and her question died before ever making its way to her lips.

xv.

brother, you could never understand how the world has wronged us all and the poets exist only to make amends, but when i feel his heart against mine, i know it to be true. this existence is strife and heartache and nails tearing into flesh, but there is consolation in the arms of a lover and there is peace in their kiss.

and, brother, you may not understand his depths, but my lover is good. despite how he bleeds and breaks, he is whole when he lays beside me, his hands lacing with mine, his features carved by the artist we know as Time.

and when he smiles…

is there love that could rival mine?

xvi.

His lips were rough against her own, hot and wanting, pushing all thoughts that weren’t of him to the recesses of her mind. His arms were steady as he held her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other planted firmly on her waist, pressing her against him. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands trailing up his chest as they reached for his dark hair, thick and soft beneath her fingertips.

She kissed him deeply once more before parting to take a breath, her forehead resting on his, their noses bumping together, gently. Mordred’s eyes fluttered open and the world was extended to (Y/n), begging her to take it in her soft hands and make something beautiful from it’s fraying edges and tattered bits.

She didn’t know how to tell the world that it was already beautiful, when she looked through his eyes and saw its glory reflected there. If everything could be crafted in his mind’s eye this existence could be a much softer way of living.

“I love you,” she breathed the words, and even though they were her own, they made her heart race in her chest. She could feel his speed up as well, and placed a hand over his chainmail, where she knew his heart lay beneath.

Mordred sighed, “And I love you.” Their lips connected for one sweet, brief moment, and when their eyes met once more, he was smiling, his iris’ twinkling with the light of the sun. “I could love you for the rest of my days and it wouldn’t be enough.”

(Y/n) giggled at his charming words, unable to contain the love that filled her so completely. He kissed her again and it felt like a cloud - downy and warm, like what she imagined heaven to be like. For a fraction of a moment, his lips hovered over her own, and it was she who chased after them, her lips divine as they pressed against his.

A knock at the door pulled them apart, and Mordred looked at her with sympathy, unwilling to pull away from her embrace, not wanting to venture into the night when all of his world was right here, in front of him.

(Y/n) put a hand to his cheek, rubbing the smooth skin with her thumb. “Be careful out there, Mordred.” Her voice was still ragged, her breathing slowly finding its normal state, and the sound of it pushed on his resolve, begging him to stay.

“I promise.” He kissed her once more, and when he walked out the door, sword in hand and a smile on his face, she believed him.

xvii.

and when the sun has not yet come up and he is wrapped in my embrace, he is mine.

[nimsajlove]

As a Team (V)

Brothers-AU   Ao3

Part IV

This is the last part of this stoy

"Echo!" Five's stunned face was the first thing Echo saw when Wrecker made room for him on the ramp. He could count the few moments Fives had cried on one hand, but now his brother looked like he wanted to double that number now and immediately. Cutup stood next to him, grabbing Fives by one elbow. To support himself or his brother was not entirely clear, both were trembling all over. In the end, however, it were Droidbait and Hevy who stormed out of the crowd of waiting clones and embraced Echo so tightly that he was briefly breathless. Force that was nice! And then suddenly there were an infinite number of hands and voices. Familiar and beloved faces. Cutup rubbed his forehead against Echo's shoulder, sniffing, Fives had his face buried in his neck and every breath shook them all together. It brought tears to Echo himself, so long everything around him had been cold and empty. It was warm and bright here and so full of life! Without his family he had only existed, here and now it was like taking his first breath. Domino Squad slowly relaxed and when they could breathe again, Echo reached out with his hand and hit Fives hard on the back of the head. "Ouch!", his brother exclaimed and looked at him so surprised that Echo almost started crying again. “You can't be left alone for a second. Neither of you.", he laughed shakily and Droidbait next to him broke out in slightly hysterical laughter before he kissed Echo profusely on the head. "We missed you too.", Cutup grinned and Hevy sighed deeply, a huge burden seemed to fall off of him. Then another face pushed forward through the crowd and if Echo still had his legs, they would now give way. Rex had always been the big brother, the protector. He walked towards their little pile with great strides, eyes wide with shock and joy. Echo saw in them the same disbelief that Fives had in them. Damn it, he was crying again! With a wet laugh, he threw his arms around Rex as soon as he was within reach and clasped his shoulders like a lifeline. "It's okay, we're here.", Rex muttered next to his head, sounding tight, Echo tightening his hug again and then pulling away to look at his Captain. "Hey Rex.", he sniffed and for the first time in his life he saw tears in Rex's eyes. They didn't overflow, but they were there! He looked tired, exhausted. "We should take him to Kix before he kills us all.", Jesse grinned, he appeared out of nowhere next to them and Echo examined his brother's new equipment. "Suits you.", he grinned and Jesse laughed and grabbed his arm. "Let's go, I don't want to risk my head."

The walk to the medbay was noisy, although most of the troops were returning to their duties. Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch, did not accompany them either. They stayed with the ship and when Echo glanced back he thought he recognized them talking to Ahsoka. She would surely follow soon. Then he took a moment to absorb the new sea of colors. There had been men in blue between the familiar faces, but his brothers were of a different color. Their armor presented such a rich bronze that it almost seemed to shimmer. What was nonsense, all the colors were matte so as not to reflect light. But he couldn't help but admire the color. It was a tad lighter and richer than Ahsoka's skin, but clearly inspired by it. It was strange... but right. The way it should be. It felt like home.

"You idiot! You horrible, lovable idiot!", Kix called out to him as soon as they entered the narrow container. Then he grabbed him tightly under his shoulder and released the others' hands from him, put him on one of the few free stretchers and shook his head. "What have they done to you...", he muttered and grabbed Echo's face, turning it a little. This didn't feel like Kix, the grip was way too gentle. He looked different too! When did he gave up his hairstyle? "I'm happy to see you too.", Echo muttered and felt Fives climb onto the stretcher next to him. Kix let him go, said nothing and turned to his supplies instead. They seemed already well used and almost used up. "Kriff, I don't think we can improve much of his situation down here.", the medic muttered and the faces of the others darkened. Hey! “I'm not in mortal danger! I feel better than I have in ages, let me stay here a while longer. With you. I can help.", he immediately tried to address Kix and earned a reproachful look. Sighing, Kix grabbed his face again and examined him carefully. "Lucky for you, the cruiser are picking up supplies. So either way you're stuck here. But you won't-” “ Echo!”, called out another familiar voice, not a clone. Echo looked up and had to smile. General Skywalker came up to him with giant strides, General Kenobi directly behind him. Only one figure was missing. "Where's Commander Cody?", he asked and Kenobi smiled indulgently and stroked his beard, he had deep shadows under his eyes. "Asleep." "Finally!", grunted a medic a few beds away, his orange armor smeared with dirt and blood. "Hey, we're a good match now.", Skywalker joked and slapped his shoulder lightly with his mechanical hand, Echo had to laugh and nodded. “I'll make sure you get a hand back. Any specials you want?“, the General grinned broadly and everyone around them smiled, even Kenobi had a satisfied smile on his face. “No, but I still need this one. I have data from the separatists through a secret protocol. It affects the entire clone army, a conspiracy.”, he reported, forcing the smile off his face. This was serious, it was important! They had to believe him, Ahsoka had looked so kriffing hopeful when they came up with the plan. "What protocol?", Kenobi asked, his face grimacing with concern. “The clones have chips in their heads, they can be controlled from the outside. I can show you the protocol.", he explained and raised what replaced his old hand. "General Tano will want to see it too.", he finished and Skywalker looked around. "Where is she anyway?", he asked quietly and Echo looked around himself, she had not yet joined them! "The last I had seen her, she was with force 99.", he clarified quickly and Rex on the edge of the room grabbed his helmet and straightened his back. Echo bit his tongue to keep from cursing out loud. He had been so focused on the other faces that he hadn't paid attention to whether she had come... "We'll find her quickly and then we'll take a look at your find.", Kenobi assured him and as he left the tent Skywalker and followed him, Rex on his heels.

There was silence for a while, Kix got an overview of Echo's general condition and Jesse leaned attentively near the door, was he on guard? For what? "Okay, what did you come up with?", Fives asked roughly next to him and Echo understood immediately, he grinned broadly at his brother. “You know, if you can risk your life for something, then I can probably write a little about it. Right?” Cutup grinned broadly and Hevy poked him in the side, the blow a little painful. It was a good pain. "You are really the worst of us.", he laughed and Droidbait shook his head exhausted. "You are all unbearable.", he muttered and Echo tried to kick him with his artificial legs, he hit and cursing Droidbait held his knee. "That‘s no fun anymore!", he grumbled and then grinned. Fives opened his mouth as a medic's comlink came to life further back and everyone fell silent. For a short time everyone was calm and motionless, then the clone suddenly fell into motion and called a shiny over to him while he was shouldering one of the emergency backpacks. "Burnes, what's going on?", Kix roared over to him in alarm, all the medics around them gave way as Burnes and the shiny hurried past with great strides. "Why do we always get the suicidal Jedi?", Burnes called back with a curse and was gone, Echo went cold. If something more had happened to Ahsoka... She had looked so damn tired on the flight and he had really tried his best to keep her from sleeping. "I tried Kix, really. I thought she would come soon...", he muttered and Kix put a steady hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him into a lying position. "It's okay, you don't know her new tricks yet.", Kix growled and then turned to the others. "You, out! We're going to need space.” The dominos protested, and Echo heard that it was no longer just about staying with him. They wanted to wait for their sister. "You're in the way, get out!", Kix growled louder and Jesse came over to them, leaning over to Fives a little. Echo didn't know what words they were exchanging, but Fives finally nodded and his face grew so serious it scared Echo. "We'll be back as soon as Kix lets us in.", he assured Echo and briefly pressed his forehead against his brother's, then turned around and led the others out. Jesse was left unsure. “No, I can't use your hands either. Grab General Windu and try to contact the fleet. They should hurry!", Kix instructed and even if he actually had no right to order Jesse around, his brother nodded and left the medbay with quick steps. He wasn't gone for a second when the door opened again and before Echo could turn his head, he heard Kix cursing loudly.

Then Rex appeared on the bed next to him, he had the limp togruta in his arms and carefully layed her down before taking a hasty step back. Burnes, Echo couldn't remember seeing him a year prior, and Kix immediately began removing Ahsoka's clothing. The fabric was stiff from the sweat, dirt, and blood. "Why did it take you so long?", Kix hissed, throwing a venomous look at Skywalker who hastily pointed at Kenobi. "I contacted Burnes as soon as possible.", he defended himself, he seemed tense as a spring, his posture stiff with worry. "Get out of here before there will be an accident.", Kix instructed coldly and Echo could swear he had never seen Kenobi flee so hastily. Skywalker hesitated. "If you need help..." "Get out of here!" In a second Jedi was gone and Rex slumped with his back against the wall across from the beds in which Ahsoka and Echo were lying. When he took off his helmet, his hand left a bloody mark and his eyes were terrifying. "What did she take from her medication?", Burnes asked from the side, he sounded calmer than Kix. The latter was still cursing softly to himself. “A hypno, pain reliever and sedative. There was no time for more.” “ No time ?! You had the whole fucking flight!", Kix growled and Rex growled in agreement, but his angry look was directed at Ahsoka and not Echo. "I'm sorry, we made plans against the chips at that time!", Echo cursed and shot into an upright position. Kix didn't react and instead began to remove the bloody bandage from Ahsoka's hand. What was underneath was... ugly. "You absolute fool, next time I'll kill you myself...", Kix grumbled and Burnes shook his head indulgently. Unlike the older medic, he had simply pressed his lips together into a thin line, while revealing an incredible number of burns. Neither seemed life threatening, so he turned to her bloody face.

Echo just sat there and watched, feeling sick at the thought of how useless he had been in the past few hours. "Hey." He looked up, Rex had come over and frowned in concern. There was a bloody streak on his cheek, had he wiped at his face? "Let's go out, explain your plan to me." That sounded more like a suggestion than an order. Nevertheless, Echo slid cautiously from the couch and walked a few steps behind Rex to the exit. Then he hesitated. They couldn't leave Ahsoka alone! Not after everything she'd done. And he was sure he only knew a fraction of everything that she had really experienced. She looked so tiny, motionless on the bed under the medics' hands. “It's okay, we're not going far. We'll be back when we're no longer in the way of Kix.", Rex mumbled reassuringly and waited until Echo stepped through the door with jerky movements. Another unknown clone stood outside, wearing Ahsoka's colors and the fine stripes on his helmet were painted with great skill. His second face reminded Echo of sunlight that he hadn't felt for a while. "Thud, what can I do for you?", asked Rex tiredly and Echo stopped to wait, Thud took off his helmet and Echo saw that his nose had been broken in the past. Other than that, his face was flawless, like a shiny's. "I wanted to apologize," he muttered and Echo made a surprised noise as did the Captain. "For what?" "That I didn't answer Kix and Burnes' questions before the General took off.", Thud replied, embarrassed and dejected, Echo only now thought he could only guess how much the other clones thought of Ahsoka Tano. When Rex didn't react immediately, Thud shrugged his shoulders protectively and Echo glanced at the Captain, just in time to see how his face relaxed and the suppressed anger vanished from his eyes. Ha! Rex had always had a soft heart when it came to the younger brothers. "Is okay. Like I said, you can't help it that our General is a small idiot from time to time.", he sighed and patted the younger clone on the shoulder. He looked up, only partially cheered up. “I bet Hug still has a few candies left. Why don't you look for him?”, Rex suggested and Thud nodded, a tiny smile on his face, before he turned and disappeared.

Rex and Echo just stood there for a while and watched him go, then Rex sighed deeply and rubbed his face with one hand. "The boy is okay.", he muttered and Echo nodded stiffly, how many young clones had Ahsoka brought in? What did he miss? “Come on, let's show the generals the 'evidence' and then we'll get you something better to wear.", smiled Rex.

On the way to the quarters Echo felt a little dazed, but a small smile graced his lips. They had taken the bait. The Jedi actually fell for the fake! "This way.", Rex instructed next to him and directed his arm towards one of the containers, as they stepped through the door, Echo sighed in relief. It had been dark around him for a year and his eyes ached after the light outside. The lights were dim in here and he blinked a few times, the headache behind his forehead subsiding. "Echo, the Jedi deceiver!", joked a voice from one of the back beds and Echo looked up, Cutup sat grinning widely and legs dangling on the back bed above Fives and Hevy. Echo and Rex walked up to them and then Echo also saw Droidbait, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back leaning against the bed opposite. He held a white helmet in his hands and looked at it critically. Only when Echo sat down on the bed he was leaning against did he look up and hold the helmet out to him. "Tar was just here, brought you your stuff." With furrowed eyebrows he took the helmet and examined it carefully. "Tar?", he asked absently and heard Cutup giggle. "Target, the poor guy had to serve for target practice once.", Rex explained from the side and Echo nodded before carefully pulling on the helmet. It fit, the narrow visor did not restrict its field of vision any more than in a normal helmet. But it kept a lot of light away from him, the quater was almost too dark. "He said that might help your eyes.", Fives interjected and Echo nodded, took off the helmet and turned it in his hands. It was true, with this helmet, his eyes would be shielded from bright light. But it was so unsetteling white... "Please tell me we have a bucket of paint with us.", he mumbled and the others smirked when it suddenly knocked. Unusual, nobody took the time to knock! The door slid open and Hunter came in with his helmet tucked under his arm. "The Jedi are planning their further strategies, I thought you might be interested in that.", he turned to Echo. But of course he was interested! And he was sure Rex too! “But hello, of course we'll listen to that. Somebody has to represent our local dumbass.", Fives grumbled and got up. He and Rex were already starting to leave. "Wait for me!", Echo managed quickly and tried as best he could to put on his equipment with one hand. After a few seconds, Droidbait's hands came to his aid. "You realize that you are not ready to fight?", gowled Rex and Echo stood up, panting, his helmet tucked under his arm. “I will help whether you want to or not. Feel free to complain to our sister later, but I'll do my part of the fight."

* ~ *

Echo carefully clenched his hand into a fist and then opened it again. He was still fascinated by how normal this movement felt. General Skywalker had performed a small miracle. Sighing, he leaned back a little in the uncomfortable chair and ran his real hand through Five's hair. His brother sat on the floor in front of him and woke up at the touch. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.", Echo muttered and Five's shoulders on his knees relaxed again, with a low hum, he leaned his head against Echo's hand. "Did something happen?", he mumbled tiredly and Echo looked over to the bed next to them. Then he shook his head. "No, nothing new yet."

Ahsoka was still lying motionless on the bed, she didn't seem to want to wake up too soon. Echo and Fives looked up when the door to the medbay slid open with a low hiss. "Hunter and Skywalker just asked about her again.", Kix grumbled tiredly and one of the medics in the back of the room laughed softly. There were only two of them here, the time in hyperspace was quiet, and most of the clones were catching up on lost sleep. Well, all but Kix apparently. "Your shift ended five hours ago.", Fives snorted and hastily avoided a kick. "What?!", he outraged and Echo smiled. If he wasn't so tired, this might even be funny. But the way it was now, they were all too drained. "You two go to bed, I'll keep watch.", Kix muttered and glanced over at Ahsoka. Shaking his head, Fives got up and offered his hand to Echo, pulling him to his feet with a low grunt. "Counter proposal. We all go to eat something and sleep afterwards. I'm sure Cutup and Droidbait would take the next shift.", he smiled and when Kix rubbed his face tiredly, Echo knew that Fives had won. The medic took a questioning look around the room, and the other two smiled again. One kept his eyes on his datapad, the other stood up and came over to them. “Don't worry, I'll sit down here. The general is not alone.", he assured and Kix nodded dully, with a satisfied hum, Fives wrapped his arm around his shoulders. He and Echo framed Kix and together they left the medbay.

They met Cutup and Droidbait in the canteen, both looking tired. Fives considered withdrawing his previous suggestion and shot Echo a look for help. His closest brother shrugged and was about to open his mouth when a comlink made a high pitched sound. Kix cursed and turned around, the other four right behind him. When they re-entered the medbay, they were suddenly met by a hectic pace. Fives looked around and then shot forward, Cutup right next to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Echo and Droidbait trying to get Ahsoka's legs under control. Damn it, who had allowed the girl to develop such strong limbs?! Fives wrung the crying togruta's arm to the ground with both hands, Cutup took a blow from her elbow and growled before he could grab her. One of the other medics held her head still with all his might, fingers dangerously close to her bared teeth. As if out of nowhere, Kix reappeared, a color-coded hypno between his fingers. "Oh she will hate you.", the medic muttered from her head and Kix sighed, the hypno was empty and instantly the body relaxed under their hands. "I'll have to live with that", Kix mumbled and helped him up, Cutup held his side grumbling and Echo and Droidbait just sat on the floor for a few seconds before getting up again. Fives carefully wrapped his arms around his sister and picked her up. "Put her to bed, I'll be right there.", Kix grumbled and started looking for something. Beside them the medic silently handed him a bucket.

[warmau]

{Regular Inspired!AU x NCT} Sicheng

tw: weapons mention, violence mention, n*fw elements, be warned. everything written here is a work of FICTION, it does not in anyway reflect reality, nor do i condone any of the extreme behavior. ♢ introduction ♢ pick mark instead | pick haechan instead | pick yuta instead | pick johnny instead | pick doyoung instead | pick taeil instead ♢ special route: pick ten

“don’t fall in love with sicheng, everyone always does it and everyone always ends up the same.”

“sicheng?”

“are you asking for him or are you confirming him as your pick?”

the way jaehyun phrases that questions makes something coil up in the pit of your stomach

should i not pick him? it’s just he said he’s going to beijing which means ..... ill be far from people who could possibly hurt me ...... right?

before you can formulate another thought, let alone even look up at jaehyun

you feel a soft hand turn your cheek the opposite away

sicheng’s beautiful features come into full view and you nearly topple backward off the desk 

you swear you see him smirk a little at your fumble, but you can’t really be sure if he wasn’t just wearing it the entire time

“ill take care of them”

he puts emphasis on each word. a slight accent slips its way through and you swallow.

take care of me?

“well - are we done here then? they’re going to be packed up and shipped to china and we’ll NEVER see them again!”

haechan spews, crossing his arms over his chest and eliciting a glare from mark

“they’ll come back fine, sicheng i trust you know what you’re doing?”

jaehyun puts a hand on sicheng’s shoulder and out of everyone in the room, he looks most comfortable with the gesture 

because doyoung’s eyes narrow and taeyong doesn’t look up from where he’s chipping away at his nails but stops the small action as soon as the temperature shifts 

“poor thing, couldn’t you have picked me~ now you’re going to china and i haven’t even gotten a chance-”

johnny sings, swishing around the wine in his cup 

you assume he’s just doing it to break the ice blanket that seems to have quilted the room

but then sicheng’s warm hand travels down from your cheek to your wrist

as he gently tugs you up and off the desk

“of course jaehyun, you and your father know how i am.”

sicheng says a string of words in mandarin and you can’t for the life of you even begin to guess what is being discussed 

all you can focus on is his skin on yours - you aren’t used to being touched by strangers

well, it’s been much more than just touched hasn’t it? 

you sigh to yourself and try just slightly to see if you can wiggle free-

you can’t. sicheng’s hold was soft at first but now it’s like you’re grounded beside him without much of a choice

“you are meticulous, i will give you that. when do you leave for beijing?”

sicheng’s gaze is on you now

he has brown eyes like everyone else in the room, but they don’t look human when they’re only mere centimeters away

they seem to be speckled with foils of gold, as if they’re reflecting light from an unknown source

the power almost leaves you unable to speak and you assume sicheng must be aware of this overwhelming effect he has on people

because once again, the small smirks blossoms and he answers easily

“whenever they’re ready.”

“m-me?”

you feel him squeeze your palm

“shall i drive you home so you can get your bag?”

your hands shake as you reach for your toothbrush - acutely aware of the presence that’s occupying your living room

sicheng had commented, after getting out of the car and opening your side of the door like a gentleman from a movie, that your quaint apartment building was “cute”

he had seemed almost amused by the fact that you still used keys to get in 

“you don’t have a keypad?”

“the building is a bit old so ,,,,,,,, “

he had hummed - shadowing after you into your cramped living space

you had invited him to sit down, but he had taken right away to the window

realizing it now as you tried to pack without going into full-blown panic about the situation, that window looked right out onto the street he’d parked

meticulous,,,,,,,, that’s the word jaehyun used to describe him,,,,,,,,,i wonder if that’s a good thing?

your train of thought is cut off when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket

you thank your past self for putting it on silence and pick it up, trying to mask your whispering with turning on the sink water 

a friends voice crackles to life on the other end

“hey, are we still on for lunch tomorrow? i wanna hear all about your new job!”

you want to match their enthusiasm, but with everything that’s transpired -  you can barely work it up

“ah- i can’t i -”

you rack your brain for a believable excuse as to why you can’t keep the date - oh my grandma’s sick, oh i have to do overtime even though it’s my second day, oh i accidentally stumbled into the inner business of an illegal ring of criminals who said my life is in danger now!

but another thought dawns on you

couldn’t i just tell my friend im in trouble? couldn’t she call the police for me and then this nightmare would be over?

your pause leaves your friend confused on the other end of the line

sicheng is in the other room, but you could take him on - couldn’t you? 

you swallow - a nervous feeling like cold ice flows through your veins and you start

“hey, actually - “

you stop short

won’t she just laugh at me? whose going to believe me - a lowly intern - that the biggest family name in south korea are actually a bunch of criminals?

“actually, i got a little sick. i’ll text you when i can do lunch again, anyway - gotta go!”

you hang up before your friend can even protest. you stare as the screen ends the call and your background photo pops up instead

a knock on the bathroom door nearly makes you jump out of your skin

“all ready?”

“y-yes, im coming out.”

you turn your phone off and place it in your pocket again. you gather your toothbrush and some other necessities

you give sicheng a weak smile as you pass him, not sure if it’s because you’re terrified he might know about the call or if you’re trying to calm yourself too by putting on this act that you’re fine

that you’re not ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, scared

“that’s a light bag. do you have everything you’ll need?”

sicheng’s words come out slow and calculated as he looks at your duffel bag

you nod, slinging it over your shoulder 

“we will be in bejing for some time.”

he looks you up and down and again those inhuman eyes seem to eat you up whole

he then says something in mandarin - leaving you staring at him stupified from lack of understanding

but he seems to think you don’t need to know what he’s said as he ushers you back into the car

you watch the cars pass you by on the way to the airport. you try to take in details because you’re worried you’ll never see this country again

who knows what will happen in bejing? but sicheng can keep me safe, right?

suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder - you look back over and see sicheng is still watching the road ahead

but his large palm is resting on the material of your shirt

“you did a good job.”

“w-what?”

“you lied to your friend, that was the right decision.”

he pulls his hand back and onto the wheel

even though he’d been speaking to you - he hadn’t even bothered to initiate the eye contact

though you don’t know if you could stand it, feeling your face pale because how had he known? had he been listening in on your when you were in the bathroom?

the care turns the bend leading up to the doors of the gates, the switchboard lists numerous asian countries and the destination flights and terminal numbers

laos, thailand, india, indonesia - so many other places than china, than beijing

sicheng swiftly walks in the direction opposite the ticketing booth and you catch up to him only after you’ve noticed how many strides away he is

“shou-shouldn’t we check-in?”

he simply smiles over his shoulder and you don’t know what the feeling coiling up in your stomach means

you clutch the strap of your bag and follow him through the large, unfamiliar airport 

don’t we look suspicious together? sicheng is so tall and walks with such refinement - and im carrying this duffel bag ive had since freshman year of highschool,,,,,,,,,,,isn’t someone bound to notice us?

but it doesn’t happen - instead, the security seem rather cordial even friendly toward sicheng

tipping their heads or smiling when he flutters by

is this the jung influence? or is sicheng something of a powerhouse himself?

you’re lost in your thoughts when suddenly a gust of air hits you - the automatic doors at the end of a long hallway you didn’t even notice you were passing through open

and sicheng saunters up to one of the many small, but sleek jets that are parked in a quartered off section of the airstrip

a pilot greets sicheng in mandarin, they begin discussing something as you stand with your eyes wide open 

a private JET? 

you run your eyes along the white body before reaching one of the wings. spanned over it are chinese characters you’re not familiar with.

“come, it will take maybe two hours.”

sicheng steps back as the ladder extend from the jet’s one entranceway

the pilot and he wait as you make your way up the stairs - legs barely holding you up from the utter shock

the jet is just like you imagine it to be - everything is so unnecessarily fancy

and you sit stiffly in the oversize chair - eyes wavering on the flatscreen tv that hangs above the partition to the pilots cabinet

sicheng follows after, patting your shoulder again

“relax”

he says - or commands - it’s all a blur and you close your eyes softly and to yourself begging that this is all a dream - it has to be ,,,,,,,,,, it just has to be

when you land in beijing it’s already early dawn - you’re exhausted to no end, even though you think you took a nap on the plane

either that or spent the whole time sweating about how this was really happening - really, really happening

from waking up this morning, going to your first day on the job, spotting mark and jungwoo, ending up in the basement of jung enterprises, packing your bag

and now here

with sicheng

in beijing

sicheng doesn’t seem phased at all, he looks like this is another day on the clock for him as he takes your duffel bag off your tired shoulders and heads off the jet with a nod toward the pilot

“it’s ok i can carry-”

“your eyes are tired. you need sleep.”

well,,,,,,he’s not wrong but -

“are we going to your house?”

it’s probably the most childish thing you could ask right about now, but sicheng doesn’t seem to mind 

he simply shakes his head

your exhaustion makes it hard for you to be as scared and as nervous as you were before. the panic you’d felt had drained you 

so even though your mind was blaring alarms, you followed behind him like a puppy

what else could you do? he was the only person you had in this new place 

as you two walk out through the airport, you’re surprised to see the beijing is still bustling even though it’s so early

the clock on the switchboard glares that it’s about 5 in the morning, but business people and travelers are already making the rounds

sicheng glides through them with ease, but unlike before - he keeps his head down 

sort of using your duffel bag to shield the view of his profile

you scamper to keep up with his long legs, and finally, you end outside again

sicheng brings his phone out and makes a call, and nearly a minute later a motorcycle pulls up before you two

sicheng drops the duffel bag back in your arms

“yukhei. take care of them.”

“why aren’t you speaking man- oh oh i see~”

the rider takes off the matte black helmet to reveal a handsome, young face underneath

“im yukhei!” 

he introduces - but sicheng just pushes you gently forward and clicks his tongue at yukhei

“go. they are tired.”

yukhei huffs but beckons you closer. you turn to sicheng and open your mouth as if to say “are you insane? im not getting on the back of some random dude’s bike!”

but sicheng’s eyes swirl a little colder and you decide to keep your queries to yourself

plus,,,,,,,,,,,yukhei seems nice? he doesn’t have a,,,,,,taeyong or a jaehyun vibe,,,,,,,,,,

“you will see me again, don’t worry.”

“oh sicheng - look at you being all caring, wait till hendery hears about this!”

yukhei teases and you give an understanding nod as you back up toward yukhei

he grabs your duffel bag, slinging it over himself and confidently tells you to get on and cling to him as hard as you can

sicheng rolls his eyes before he’s gone back into the crowd of the airport

what’s going on? i thought he was going to “take care” of me?

you assume yukhei’s going to take you to his home - or to someones home - not to the ritzy hotel lobby you stop in front of 

decorated in old decdeance and gold

“um -”

yukhei waves to the desk girls who all giggle into their palm and then tugs you up behind him

for some reason, even though you can’t understand it, their whispers smell like jealousy and your cheeks start to burn

he brings you up to the 9th floor and there’s a room with the same chinese characters that were on the jet

you take the moment to ask yukhei, “does this say jung enterprises?”

he laughs, “no - they say dong sicheng!”

you blink back confusion, but then he’s pulling you into the grandiose suite and pointing out that the bedroom is down that hall - that sicheng said you were tired and it’d do good to get some rest

“where did sicheng go?”

yukhei shrugs

“probably to deal with his parents, anyway ill be here! so you’ll be safe - that’s a wong man’s promise!”

you nod - turning on your heel to go toward the room but stopping to ask one more question

“is sicheng,,,,,,,, famous here?”

yukhei almost doubles over with laughter because he genuinely thinks you’re joking

but when the blank look on your face doesn’t change he straightens up

“well, yeah - he’s the only son of the dong family. they’re basically chinese royalty.”

you hit the hotel pillows and for a second you think your body is melting into the sheets

you had wanted to pry yukhei more about sicheng - but the weight of the world had pushed you right into bed

you curl up and try to remind yourself to ask later, later - after a little nap

you think it’s part of your dream, the insistent shaking and the screaming, you think it’s just a bad dream cultivated from the rollercoaster of emotions you’ve been on today

but then you wince - because the yell is loud and gruff and the hand on you is cold to the touch

with a gasp, you wake up and see yourself staring up at a man 

he’s unfamiliar, with a gun pointed directly at you

he’s telling you to do something in mandarin but you have no idea what and you pull away, eyes big and frightened

you can tell he’s getting frustrated, he leans over to grab at your ankle and harshly pull you off the bed

when a hand wraps its way around his neck and turns it to the side with a loud and perfect crack

the gun that had been in his hand goes falling onto the sheets and you scream

sicheng is standing behind the crumpled over body and he reaches toward you

afraid you coil up, threatened and shaking, but he soothes in his slow voice

“i won’t hurt you, i need you to trust me.”

you want to scream again - trust him? trust him? everything is ruined because of him and whatever stupid fucking scheme you got caught up in 

but you know you can’t - whatever is happening is wrong - and when you feel him pull you toward him, it’s like your instincts are telling you this is the safest place right now

beside sicheng

you hear his name being called from the next room, you think the voice is yukhei 

there’s another voice - maybe two or three and as sicheng leads you back into the suite’s main hall you see that there are multiple of these masked men

all restrained on the ground with rope - or being held back by who you can only assume are sicheng’s accomplices

“kun - are there anymore?”

“no, this should be all of them.”

the exchanges are quick and in mandarin - you can’t understand and you desperately bunch up the fabric of sicheng’s shirt as your knuckles go white from clinging to him

his broad back keeps you nearly out of sight from everyone when you feel it - 

something swats at you - in an upwards motion - it almost knicks you 

but sicheng’s reaction is fast and he spins you both so that you end up in his position and he ends up in yours

the small pocket knife cuts the left side of his cheek and the blood streaks down onto his chin

not even taking note of it - sicheng reaches out - hand on the face of the assailant as he tugs him down by the hair and delivers a strong knee to their face

they tumble backward - and you realize it was another one of those men

they’d been aiming for your back with that knife and instead - sicheng had taken the blow

you look up and sicheng barks something out - but you aren’t even mentally in the room in anymore

instead you’re looking up at him, his beautiful skin is stained with the red from the gash

you want to ask first if he’s ok - if he needs a bandage, but that’s ridiculous the answer is: of course he needs one

but the second question stays with you for a long time - why? why are you protecting me? wouldn’t it be easier if i get hurt and then you and the jungs don’t have to worry about me anymore?

either way - when you come to - you see that those men are gone and instead 

you’re sitting on the coach beside sicheng and yukhei and a group of other men

“sicheng - seriously, why would you volunteer to take them here? you’re already a target yourself - isn’t this just doubling the risk?”

“isn’t it obvious kun - look how cute they are!”

“oh my god hendery is THAT the only thing that ever crosses your mind?”

“im just saying, isn’t that the reason sicheng - huh? huh?”

you can’t catch what’s being said - but suddenly the eyes are all on you

sicheng’s cheek has been cleaned up and patched - he explains that you don’t understand mandarin all that well and the mood in the air shifts

“that’s fine! ill use english - im hendery, and the rest of these idiots are not important! soooooooooo tell us, how’d you woo sicheng?”

someone makes a sound of disdain and you look in the direction away from hendery, this person is sitting up straight - posture absolutely immaculate and glasses perched on the end of his nose

his arms are crossed and he looks defensive

“that’s kun! he absolutely suuuuuuuuuuuuucks!”

hendery sings and falls back against the shoulder of another boy who shoves him off

kun directs his eyes onto you and then narrows them

“so - you’re sichengs new plaything?”

“kun.”

sicheng starts and kun doesn’t glance his way 

“what? am i wrong?”

the tone of voice is condescending and judgmental - he doesn’t even know you and yet he’s saying something so rude?

“who cares, sicheng - did you tell your parents your back? chances are they sent those goons after you.”

“hendery ,,,,,,,, why would his own parents try to have him murdered?”

the boy throws his hands up in exclaim

“i don’t know? for the drama! they’re entertainment moguls - imagine the press stories!”

you sit up a little at the new fact - so sicheng’s parents are in the entertainment business? what’s he doing working for the jungs?

“no, they don’t know. but right now, i need to ask you guys to help me.”

“is something wrong?”

your voice is shaking as you ask, but sicheng gives you a soothing smile - it’s not very much effective with that huge gash on his cheek though

“no. i just thought our entrance to beijing would be safer. kun and yukhei - will you keep them company while i clean up this mess?”

kun is about to say: absolutely not

but yukhei jumps up and winks

“of course - you just be careful ok sicheng!”

sicheng turns to you and tells you he’ll be back soon. 

that’s a lie.

he vanishes for over a week and during that week you end up being moved into the almost dubiously normal apartment where kun lives

on the outside, it looks normal - middle class

it’s nice, but not fancy. the neighbors are all either hardworking youths or families

kun is known to them as a graduate student with an interest in tech

but the reality is, it’s a money-laundering den set up under the jungs 

when you’re first dropped off there by yukhei - kun refuses to acknowledge your existence 

he sits behind his computer - wiring checks through different banks and forging signatures 

another side business you figure out from your hours of observing is money fraud

kun spends great time looking at foreign bills and reproducing them to perfection

one day you lean over and look at the sample bill he’s made

pointing out the serial number on the left

“you can’t keep it this way.”

you point out and kun tosses a look at you over his shoulder

“excuse me?”

“there would never be a chain of  numbers starting with this - it’s a misplaced pattern and tellers will now it’s fake.”

“how do you-”

you shrug, “i went to poland when i was younger and i just remember this detail.”

you turn the bill around and then pass it back to kun 

he stares at you - once disinterested and even angry expression turned rather intrigued

“are you usually interested in details?”

you sit down beside him and look at his screen, it’s in another language - polish you presume - so you don’t get any of it 

but you nod

“details always make sense - people in my program back in university would say im a perfectionist, but i just don’t want to make-”

“mistakes?”

kun finishes your sentence, pushing his glasses back up by the frame and you nod

“yes. this is why all of this is so nerve-wracking. it’s too bizarre. the details don’t add up.”

kun snorts, “details usually aren’t supposed to add up in this business. otherwise, the wrong people will come looking for you.”

“you mean like the police”

kun gives you an almost sympathetic side glance - although he can’t blame you, you’re not used to this - sicheng made it worse by bringing you here as a part of some stupid deal with the jungs

and then sort of tossed you into the corners

“here, let’s see how detailed you are.”

kun shuffles through a pile of folders and places them in front of you

“they’re various fakes i’ve made before - it’s really wasting time but if you can find the problems it should keep you entertained for a while?”

you smile, taking the folder and for the first time there’s almost a little bit of warmth coming from kun

even when yukhei swings by with lunch - he seems peppy about the change in the “temperature” of the room

the days get a little better as you wait around for sicheng to come back

kun is actually quite,,,,,,, tolerable of you,,,,,,,,and he’s impressed that you didn’t lie

you pick out some of his fault bills and he seems to respect you a little more for the way you carefully handle the nonsense, but welcome tasks he gives you

one afternoon, yukhei is back with lunch - this time with hendery in tow

“hey if you’re bored you can come take a ride with me-”

he starts to ask, slurping up his noodles before receiving a whack on the head from kun

“taking them out would be dangerous yukhei, think before you speak.”

“OW! I BURNED MY TONGUE KUN!”

you look down into the broth and sigh

“is kun being super mean to you still?”

hendery whispers when he hears you - but you shake your head

“i just wonder,,,,,,where is sicheng anyway?”

hendery sits back up and shrugs

“if you wanna see him so bad - we can make it happen. hey kun, can i turn on the tv?”

your eyebrows furrow

“why? did something happen - was it on the news?”

you get up, almost spilling your noodles - your look of alarm only humors the two boys as they reassure that’s not it

when hendery fishes the control out from one of the bookshelves he clicks through the static and the channels before settling on one

you stare at the screen - it looks like a movie? or maybe a drama? 

the setting reminds you of your university, the library, the students and then -

“s-sicheng?!”

you lean forward and your jaw nearly drops because sicheng pops up on the screen

his lines are all in mandarin and he’s being pulled around by what is probably his love interest in the drama

but that’s not why you’re in disbelief

not only does he work for the jungs - he’s ,,,,,,,,,,,, he’s an actor?!?!

“he’s super popular here too - his face is on like every brand of ice-cream.”

hendery chimes in and you want to ask something when kun marches back in - shutting the tv off

“they didn’t have to know that”

he hisses and yukhei rolls his eyes, “if they’re going to be here for six months - they’re bound to find out!”

hendery nods in agreement 

“the dong family are all famous actors, but they also own a number of the big fine arts theaters in mainland china. sicheng acts, but he’s probably going to take over one of the departments soon.”

“h-how if he works for the jungs?”

yukhei taps his chin and hendery shifts sort of uncomfortably like there’s some kind of truth that everyone knows except you

you want to call it out, but suddenly the door clicks open and sicheng comes in

he’s wearing all black, hair stylishly done up and he slips the mask off his face as he greets you with a gleaming smile

“see, i said i would be back.”

you don’t have to ask him where he’s been or what he’s doing anymore - you’ve sort of pieced it all together

he comes closer and closer until he’s putting a hand on your head and giving it a little pat

“sicheng you can’t just pet someone like they’re a -”

kun starts, but you don’t hear the rest

is this what jaehyun meant - meticulous? organized? so well - that he could live a double life as a beloved actor in china and a criminal in south korea?

the stars in your eyes are apparent to everyone in the room, kun tenses up, but sicheng is used to it

he turns after “greeting” you and asks kun how the transfers are coming along

hendery and yukhei snicker and venture into the kitchen

you’re not sure how embarrassed you’re supposed to feel - but you are sure that something on your skin feels a little hot

sicheng sticks around, he even moves you back out of kun’s apartment front and into a nearby hotel

less fancy than the other one and this time, he requests that the back entrance be available for him to come and go

one evening you’re sitting beside him as he finishes a call with jaehyun and you ask the itching question on your mind

“why did you join the jungs if you’re so successful here in china?”

his mouth twitches up a little 

“ah - so you found out?”

“that you’re the son of famous actors and are on every makeup brand ad in beijing? yes - i found out.”

he laughs

“you’re being sarcastic - right?”

you blush, you don’t know why, and look down at your feet

“well - i don’t know. i joined because i was bored?”

“b-bored?”

he leans back against the sofa and looks up at the ceiling 

the angle highlights the strength of his jaw and glistening of his skin, the scar on his cheek is healing and even it can’t take away from his beauty

“yes. being famous isn’t all it’s cut out to be.”

he grins

“don’t i sound selfish?”

you shift

“were those men who broke into the hotel, were they after you - or after,,,,,me?”

“oh, they were after me. i havent been in beijing for over a year. my parents put out a reward if i was found.”

“a year? then that drama hendery showed me -”

he tilts his head your way and his gaze alone makes you feel a shiver in your spine

“was it where i played a university student?”

“yes”

“ah - it was a rerun. i shot it two or three years back.”

“and it’s still on air?!”

he humbles himself with a shoulder shrug, “maybe it’s that popular?”

part of the way he talks so languidly about all of this irritates you - but the other part of you can’t help but be mesmerized

what kind of person finds boredom in a life born into stardom? what kind of person doesn’t pick up a hobby to help it - like video games or crocheting

instead choosing to be the overseas link for a gigantic company like jung enterprises

so many questions fill your head, more than when you were basically forced to come here in fear of your life

sicheng grins and says something carefully - as if he’s cautious about the right words

“i can hear it. the gears in your head turning. you are curious, right?”

you try to shake your head, but it has to be obvious - sicheng’s read you like an open book since you made eye contact back in the basement of the jungs

“it’s just ,,,,,,,, a lot.”

he suddenly leans in close - pretty face mere inches from yours

“i know what can take your mind off of it.”

the thoughts that had clouded your brain seize - everything in your body seems to come to a screeching halt

he’d always had this power of overwhelming you, but now he was - he was tipping over that border

“sich-”

you can’t even say his name, not when he’s looking at you like that and talking to you in that voice 

what does he mean? what does he have in mind? is it what im thinking-

the moment where he’d saved you from the attacker in the hotel room seeps back into you

the feel of you pressed into his back - the fact that it didn’t make sense for him to protect you like he did, to take the pain for you

he’d known you for less than 48 hours and he’d done that - what were his motives? it didn’t make sense

and on top of that, he was china’s it boy - he really - he would never put the moves on,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,you?

sicheng laughs because it looks like steam might come out of your ears

he takes your hand in yours and goes

“i was suggesting i take you out to see beijing, so you can stop having all these questions and see the beauty of the city.”

something inside you pops with relief, but another part - deeper away - deflates 

exactly. he’s an it boy, a dream boy, so you need to stop thinking that stupid little act of kindness meant anything. especially not in the grand scheme of things.

you chuckle, as a way to push past your nervousness and nod

“s-sure”

you inch a little bit away from him and sicheng thinks it’s amusing

“but - are you sure you can just gon on the street? won’t you be,,,,,,, mobbed?”

sicheng fishes a black facemask from his pocket - “hiding in plain sight?”

you don’t know why your stomach does a little flip like you’re on some first date back home, but it does

as sicheng tugs you through the busy streets and you can tell that no one really looks twice at him - not with the mask and the baseball cap

and you’re inconspicuous in general, blending in among the talkative tourists and rushing native trying to get to and from all the places sicheng wishes he could show you

you can’t see all of beijing in two hours - and sicheng is definitely trying to play it safe  - so he takes you wangfujing, buying up snacks and pointing out the crafts and decorations the hang between the malls

you spot his face on advertisements left and right - kind of thrilled by the act that no one even knows that their favorite actor is pulling you behind them right under their noses

sicheng explains that his parents own a theater nearby, that if he could he’d love to show you some of the productions they put on 

and you ask in the busy, loud street if sicheng likes acting on stage or on the screen the most

he astonishes you once again when he picks neither

he takes your hand and twirls you around, much to the utter annoyance of some older women

and pulls you in close

“i like dancing the most.”

the whole experience feels like a fever dream of some sort - from the moment you two sneak out the back door of the hotel

to when you’re back and standing in front of the bed holding a panda sicheng had bartered to buy you

it says beijing loves you in bold letters on the tshirt it’s wearing and you don’t know why but you hold it close to your chest

beijing doesn’t love you - it doesn’t even want you to be here - and you wish you were home, feeling the lack of familiarity starting to grow

but something warm lingers, from where sichengs hands passed the bear onto you 

and your tears dry up on your cheeks and you think - it’s fine, it’s only six months

sicheng explains the next day that he needs to be gone for a bit, just to do some small parts in order to please his parents and keep off the radar of anyone looking for the jungs here in china

he leaves you in kun’s care - and after time has gone by, you can tell kun has warmed up to you

actually letting you do tasks that would help him - and even offering to cook you lunch one afternoon

the only thing that seems to irk him as much as when you two first met is the mention of sicheng

but it’s not like you can help it - there’s so much you don’t know

you set the pile of highlighted documents down near kun

“you’re done?”

“yep, i checked them over twice - you don’t have to ask.”

you laugh and kun even seems to give you a twinkle of a smile in return

you shift a little, looking around the room

“do you know if sicheng is shooting another drama?”

kun’s fingers stop typing and he looks at you for a second

the coldness is back in the dark brown of his eyes and he clears his throat

“you need to be careful.”

“what?”

kun looks back at this screen and then at you, taking the time to slip his glasses down on the file you’ve put before him

“don’t fall in love with sicheng, everyone always does it and everyone always ends up the same.”

“the same?”

kun clenches his teeth

“do i have to spell it out for you? they end up heartbroken and feeling like an idiot.”

you don’t understand the spite, aren’t he and sicheng friends?

“i -”

“there are other men in the world. men that don’t live double lives, running around eating up the spotlight. don’t get me wrong, i respect sicheng. he works hard to make everyone happy. but he isn’t - “

kun searches for the word as you stand there feeling more and more pathetic by the second

“but he isn’t reliable. you should know that, with the way he comes and goes.”

you think, well you know, kun is right. 

to be honest - you don’t think you’re in love with sicheng - how could you be? you’ve only known him for a bit over a month. 

although you think it’s strange, that the moment he saved you replays in your mind more than the moment when you woke up in the jung’s basement

more than when you met all of sicheng’s friends

or even more then when you got to run around beijing with him for a little while

you go to sleep now, every night thinking back to it, thinking back to the image of him standing between you and danger

blood dripping down his cheek - not a seconds of hesitation when it came to protecting you

with kun’s logic, he’s right - sicheng probably did it because of some impulse or even worse - because he wanted to be a hero

he’s an actor after all, the limelight is a specialty, but you can’t help but buck against the ideas

it had felt like sicheng did it because he didn’t want you to be the one hurt

was it because jaehyun would get on his case? but why - having you gone eliminates the problem

was it because he’d look cool in front of his friends? his friends didn’t even know you, and kun didn’t even seem to want to know you back then

so why? why? why?

you don’t look at kun - you just sort of nod and ask if there’s anything else you can do

kun waves you off, but an hour or so seems to feel slightly bad for blowing up on you

offering that you two go out and buy some groceries for a nicer dinner than instant ramen or fastfood that yukhei could bring back on his bike

you agree, mostly because you don’t want to revert back to the awkward and hateful atmosphere that you’d first had to stew in when you met each other

and to your relief, neither does kun

you guys talk naturally - even confusing the cashier who kun shyly explains to you called you his significant other on accident 

you laugh it off and are too busy rummaging through the bags to see the way kun’s eyes linger on you

as you’re walking back to the apartment - kun stops under on of the streetlights

you turn back and ask what’s wrong

“i want to ask you again, well i didn’t ask the first time - i just made the assumption, but are you in love with sicheng?”

you feel your hands sort of twitch in response - you thought that conversation had been buried away 

“i-”

you start, wanting to explain to kun where you are right now - what you’re thinking

hendery, xiaojun, yukhei - they were always kind to you. but kun had spent the most time with you and you were getting to a point where you thought you could see him as a sort of confident about all this

you obviously didn’t want to worry sicheng with your doubts (or your emotions)

so telling kun might actually make it better

“kun, i just i think i-”

the sound of tires reveing against the street cuts your sentence off

you both turn to see yukhei’s familiar motorcycle and he waves as he pulls up onto the curb

tugging off the helmet he greets you two with his usually goofy smile and points to the grocery bags

“is mama kun making something good tonight? can i join?”

you giggle and kun rolls his eyes, but invites him anyway

the weird moment and the weird question kun had asked melt away, at least they do for you 

as you listen to yukhei excitedly explain one of the new upgrades on his bike

kun slinks a little behind. he wonders what you were going to say.

for a while everything seems to be “normal”

normal meaning no one attacks you in the hotel room or comes raiding kun’s apartment

you think surviving this isn’t going to be that hard - not the horrible nightmare you had thought it was when you were getting on the jet to fly over here

when sicheng is around, he’s always got a way of keeping your attention. you usually don’t focus on anything but the work kun gives you

but when sicheng is there - you kind of feel like another fan watching one of his dramas - he’s just ,,,,,, he’s like living artwork

and you know he knows you peek - because sometimes he’ll look back at you and wink

the mindless flirting sort of makes you feel sprinkles of joy, but you try to level it out with what kun had said 

maybe you are another “plaything” - something sicheng thought he could keep around for when he’s bored

but he’s otherwise,,,,, respectful,,,,he never crosses a boundary or does something that might make you feel like a toy - or like less of a person

if anything, he’s done more to keep you safe and happy 

when he isn’t around though - you help kun out with small tasks which you say aren’t really criminal right?

most of the money, according to kun and sicheng, is just from “sales” the jungs makes 

you don’t ask - they don’t tell and plus you’d rather do these tasks than sit around being useless

you’re scared that’ll make kun hate you again

hendery will sometimes come over and make you laugh, yukhei keeps pestering about that ride on his bike that kun refues him from giving you and xiaojun - though reserved - tries to make you feel comfortable too

you think it’s crazy, such sweet boys work for the jungs - but for some unknown reason they don’t mention it

and they never help kun or sicheng with this work? actually you’re not sure - do  they also work for the jungs? do they work for sicheng’s parents?

still many questions - but it somehow feels like you’ve fallen into an ok groove

one call from jaehyun ruins all of that

sicheng had been around, making you feel giddy and safe for the past few days 

you, him, and kun had been working on printing money for an upcoming trip doyoung was going to take under the guise of a “marketing meeting”

when the phone had wrung and the color had seemed to drain out of sicheng’s face

you didn’t know why, but you gut said it had something to do with you - and you were right

immediately after hanging up, sicheng had called out your name

“get up, we have to leave. now.”

instead of scrambling to your feet first - kun beat you, grabbing sicheng by the arm

“what’s happening? where are you taking them?”

sicheng shrugs him off

“don’t be concerned. make sure yukhei knows im taking his bike.”

panic starts to make your mind go fuzzy, the room spins as sicheng starts collecting your things 

“the hotel has my -”

“no time, let’s go. i need to get you to safety. it’s part of the deal.”

the deal?

you follow after him, as confused and scared as the first time he’d lead you into this unknown place

but this time kun takes a hold of your wrist and tugs you back toward him

sicheng turns on his heel at the sound of your back hitting kun’s chest

“tell me where you’re taking them sicheng, im not joking.”

“kun let them go.”

“tell me.”

the hold tightens and you stare up at kun - something is different about him, he could be cold and unagreeable but this was just downright,,,,,,,,,,, frightening

“im sick of it, what was the point of bringing them here in the first place? did you get tired of playing around with the stars - wanted to ruin someone innocent?”

sicheng’s eyes overcast

“kun - what are you accusing me of?”

“they’re a person, sicheng. a person whose life you put in danger by getting them involved with you - with us - with the fucking psychopath jungs. don’t you remember what they’re doing to ten and yangyang?

two names you’ve never heard of pop up and you want to ask what the hell is going on 

but then the two of them switch into fast paced mandarin and you’re stuck in an absolute limbo

“of course i remember, that’s why i started this. i thought it would help ten and yangyang.”

“and what about now? what about taking them out and frolicking about the city like you aren’t famous? like your parents wouldn’t blow a lid on you and this whole thing if they found you out on a date with someone they’ve never met before?”

“kun, it’s my life. i can do wh-”

“it’s THEIR life too sicheng - people are not toys! stop treating them like they are!”

sicheng’s hand suddenly wraps around your other wrist

“they aren’t a toy to me. you wouldn’t understand.”

“tell me sicheng, sicheng who was born with a goddamn gold spoon in his mouth - what wouldn’t i understand? the way you take people and use them up?”

sicheng jerks you, and out of fear of hurting you, kun lets you go

you fall back against sicheng’s side

“they’re just like me kun. they ended up in a situation they didn’t want to be in. they were scared and couldn’t tell anyone. it’s simple, i saw myself in them and want to keep them safe.”

“you? keep someone safe - sicheng you’re more selfish -”

sicheng leans forward, you look up into his eyes and he ignores kun as he presses his lips tenderly to yours

he pulls away - your body frozen over as he locks eyes with kun again

“i can be selfish, just like you’ll always think i am, and that’s why im taking them right now. somewhere safe.”

he turns and you barely follow behind - knees shaking

kun commands sicheng to turn around and explain, but sicheng shakes his head

“you can’t think straight right now, it’s the jealousy talking - you won’t hear me out.”

you are still trying to process what the hell happened as sicheng throws a leg over yukhei’s motorcycle

he beckons you over and before he slips the helmet over your head - you ask him, words barely audible

“wh-why did you kiss me?”

he gives you a small smile - but it’s not the one you’re so used to seeing

so used to being struck by 

it’s almost,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,sad

“because i might not get the chance to ever again.”

he turns on the engine and motions for you to hop on 

you do, because you trust him, wrapping your arms tight around his waist

sicheng speeds off into the streets at a pace even yukhei hasn’t gone at

you suddenly wish he’d have worn the helmet instead - but you somehow know he wouldn’t have allowed that

you think you might be suffocating sicheng with how hard you’re clinging onto him - just like that time in the hotel ambush

you don’t know where he’s taking you or what’s going on - you don’t know anything and yet what scares you the most is what he’d said

why won’t i ever see you again? is it because you’ll die? or because i’ll die? is there trouble? i just want you to tell me you’ll keep me safe again,,,,

to motorcycle pulls up to the gates of a large open field - in the field you see the jet that brought you to beijing

in front of it is the pilot - who doesn’t waste time getting the stairs down from the opening of the jet

sicheng gets off the bike first, helping you right after and slipping the helmet off your head

 gently he fixes the strands of your hair that have gotten all messy and you talk a mile a minute

“sicheng what’s going on? why was kun so angry? and why do i have to lea-”

“one question.”

he goes

“ask me one question, and then you must leave.”

you swallow - your throat is dry and you stare into his beautiful eyes - those golden specks rotate hypnotizingly around his pupil

why did you kiss me?

why were you and kun fighting?

where am i going?

what happened?

“why,,,,,,,,did you save me on my first day in beijing - wouldn’t it have been easier for me to,,,,,,,to have just been hurt?”

he smiles, tilting his head a little as he keeps his eyes locked on yours

“because i said i would keep you safe. that’s a silly question.”

“but you didn’t have to - you didn’t have to - no one is forcing you to keep that stupid promise to jaehyun,,,,,,”

he runs a hand down your cheek

“it’s complicated. but ill tell you something. even if it really didn’t matter, even if i had just met you. i still would have protected you.”

he leans in and once again you think he’s going to kiss your lips - leave you frozen and unable to think for yourself

but he doesn’t kiss your lips - he kisses your forehead and mutters 

“because we’re the same.”

the words are cryptic - you can’t ask what he means because the pilot is gently pulling you toward him instead - toward the jet

when you get on - you rush to open the window and see as sicheng gets back on the bike 

he looks over his shoulder and it makes your heart stop for a second in your chest

before he’s gone

the plane flys you back to korea, where mark and johnny pick you up from the airport

you ask them what’s the issue and mark explains that a criminal rival of the jungs in china had been suspicious of sicheng for a while

that one of his informants had caught a glance of you and sicheng on the street - confirming the suspicion that he’d been working for the jungs

“technically we asked sicheng to come back with you - so we could protect him too, but looks like he said he’d take care of it himself.”

“so,,,,,,,,so it’s my fault,,,,,,”

you whisper and johnny tries to play it off - “of course not! it’s not your fault - plus jaehyun trusts sicheng can handle himself! now c’mon, how can we turn that frown upside down?”

you look out of the window of the car - lost in thoughts, and mark taps johnny on the shoulder - motioning to leave you alone for right now

a couple of days pass and you’re allowed back in your apartment - of course a member of jaehyun’s team is always there to keep an eye on you

you don’t really know what to do but wait and see if someone - anyone - will give you an update

did that person see me and sicheng when we went out together? was it when we landed? if i had never chosen him and went to beijing then he wouldn’t have gotten in this trouble!

it’s when the door opens and instead of haechan or jungwoo, yukhei comes in and mark springs up in confusion

he pulls his gun - “who are you?!”

“yukhei!”

mark turns to you, “we said not to tell your friends-”

“hey hey, what’s the problem little dude - im with sicheng!”

mark blinks “you’re with sicheng?”

from behind yukhei steps out just the man of the hour

you notice a cast wrapped around his arm, but other than that he’s relatively unharmed

you rush toward him - nearly tackling him 

“are you ok? im so sorry - if it wasn’t for you having to take me with you back to beijinig-”

sicheng puts the other hand on your cheek and gives it a little squish

“shh. im fine. aren’t you happy to see me?”

mark look between the two of you, bewildered and yukhei elbows him in the side as if they’ve been friends for years

you bury your head in sicheng’s chest and he laughs, gently running the fingers from your cheek into your hair

“let’s go dude - they need their space!”

yukhei exclaims, pulling mark after him and through the small door to your apartment

mark protests, but yukhei overpowers him easily and suddenly it’s just you and sicheng

you think you’re going to start crying - from the happiness and the confusion

“why didn’t you just come back with me? why did you stay?”

sicheng waves the cast around

“i wanted to personally deal with the problem.”

“why?”

“because that bastard threatened to kill you and sicheng actually went crazy on him.”

you look back at the door - where kun is leaning against the frame

“kun! you’re ok!”

you jump to your feet and kun kind of half smirks at the sound of worry in your voice

you don’t see sicheng roll his eyes behind your back, but kun doesn’t step closer

he looks at sicheng and on purpose tells him in mandarin

“i believe you for now, but if you end up tossing them to the side like everyone else - just know ill be waiting. and i won’t forgive you.”

“thanks, but that’s not in the plan.”

you huff

“can you guys please speak so i can understand - you two were in dire danger and the last time you did this you almost killed each other so please, im begging, don’t spike my anxiety through the roof.”

kun lets out a sound, sort of grumbling as he turns to follow after yukhei and mark

you look and see sicheng has stood up

“i now have time to answer any other questions.”

he laces his fingers with yours and you think - where should i start?

“why did you kiss me?”

“wanted to.”

“why did you kiss me in front of kun?”

sicheng grins, “to teach him a little lesson”

“why?”

sicheng shrugs, “just so he knows, that i like you.”

“why do you like me?”

“why - do you not like me?”

you scrunch up your nose and sicheng laughs again -

“fine, it’s because of what i said - you are a lot like me. we’re the same.”

“how?”

you don’t understand - you’re a uni student with an otherwise boring as hell life

how could you and dong sicheng - an actor, a boy born into richness with this starvation for adventure - be even remotely similar

“because even when you were thrown into all this. even when you were scared - you did it.”

“but - how does that make us the same?”

he leans in and suddenly his forehead is pressed to yours

“because i got thrown into this too.”

“i-i- i thought you joined because you were bored!”

he shakes his head, “there are other reasons. one day we’ll talk about them. for now, do you want to go back to beijing with me?”

your stomach twists

“it won’t be safe for you-”

“it will be. it will be safer there than here. plus, kun told me you are quite good with details.......the word jaehyun uses-”

“meticulous?”

“yes. meticulous. what do you think?”

you would agree - you think you are pretty meticulous yourself, but instead of saying anything or asking any of the million questions you still have you hug him again

because sicheng had said before that he’d be afraid he’d only get one chance to kiss you again

and you just are scared of thinking that that could have been the reality of this situation

“ah, xiaojun brought this back by the way.”

sicheng pulls the panda he bought you at the beijing markets and drops it in your hands - you stare at it 

the shirt on the panda had said ‘beijing loves you’ before - but, in what you presume is xiaojun’s handwirting, there’s a post it over beijing it says ‘sicheng’

you giggle - but then look up at him

he tkaes the post it off and taps the panda’s head

“so - do you want to come back with me? or do you want to switch and pick someone else?’

“that’s a silly question.” 

you copy him and tip toe up to press your lips to his own

he grins against your lips and then goes, “we’re going to have to convince jaehyun though - he was a bit mad about this situation.”

“that’s fine - doesn’t he trust you.”

sicheng nods, looking deep into your eyes

“he does. but i hope he knows that if anything, just say the word and ill always pick you over my allegiance to him.”

you can’t believe what he’s said - you just look at him and see something in those words

“sicheng?”

“yes”

“i don’t know what jaehyun has over you - or how he forced you to work for him - but let’s get it back and let’s make sure you never have to see the jungs again.”

something sparkles in his eyes and he nods, slow and quiet

when you guys rejoin everyone outside, mark is too distracted with yukhei to notice the change in your expression

hendery and xiaojun who are also waiting realize it, yukhei does too when he looks over his shoulder. kun smirks to himself. finally

with your help

they’re all going to get back at the jungs.

spoiler: to know why sicheng joined the jungs - read ten’s special route!

[agreateryesterday]

Stucky - ABO

Bottom!Steve

Inside the Lines

Settling in the Lines

Little Bumps in the Lines

A Little Outside the Lines

Way Outside Those Lines

Picking a New Color

Back Inside the Lines

Bold, Wiggly Lines

Scribbles and Broken Crayons

Somersaults and IV Lines

Broken Noses and Coloring Lines

Family Ties and Signature Lines

The Lines are Closer Than Ever

Past Lines and Future Loves

Little Wonders by Avengers_Whore

“You’d look amazing with a pup on yer hip,” he murmured, startling Steve. The blond sat up slightly and looked at him, brow furrowed. “Buck, you know I can’t-” “Yeah, yeah, Stevie, I know, but we can adopt! Just like Sam and Rhodey did with Wanda,” the alpha told him, smiling wide as he looked up at his mate. He was feeling giddy just at the thought of having a pup in their home. “Plenty of kids out there who would love to be part of our family.”

“Waffles, p’ease,” Tony murmured, laying his head on the omega’s shoulder. Steve smiled and nodded his head, carrying the little omega into the kitchen. He settled the pup onto the table and poked his nose gently, enticing a soft giggle from the boy. “Steeb, can we have choc’late chips?”“Of course honey,” the blond man said, gently tickling the boy’s side.

“Poor kid just fell down and seized right there in the exam room, totally scared the shit out of me.” Steve bolted upright, his eyes wide with panic. Tony whimpered at the sudden movement and curled into Bucky more, his little face scrunched up. The alpha tightened his hold on him and gave his omega a look.

“I wish you could be my brother, then you could stay forever,” the young pup murmured, moving around the table to hug onto Harley. The blond teen looked down at the boy with wide eyes before wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight.

“Stay away from my pup,” Bucky snarled softly, placing himself protectively between Howard and the small group of three still clinging to each other. “So you’re the one who took on my greatest failure,” the other alpha commented with a sneer. Bucky’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he got even closer into the older man’s face. “Walk away before you say something that gets you seriously hurt,” the brunet growled.

“Edward.” A shake of the head. “Benjamin.” Another shake. “Joseph.” “You’re not even trying,” Tony accused, crossing his arms over his chest. “Benjamin’s nice though. That can be his middle name.” “Oh well since you’ve already decided."

“Why do we even try to keep up with you people?” Sam grouched as he helped Steve put away everything in the kitchen. The beta was putting the glasses away in a cupboard, careful as he unpacked them from the box one by one. “Three kids and a house, I’ll never catch up.” “I don’t think it’s a competition, Sam,” Steve told him with a smile.

“You act like you’re not going to be supervised by an adult,” Harley said, cuffing the younger’s ear and smirking when the omega yelped. Since Tony was incredibly young to be in college, they’d put him in Harley’s apartment. The alpha would be able to watch out for him and since they were actually siblings, he wouldn’t be bothered by Tony going into heat. “Why do you have to crush my dreams like that?”

“Boyfriend?” Bucky asked, a growl lacing his words. “Oh stop. His name is Ty and he’s a very nice, charming alpha. Just wanted you to know before you got a whiff of him and got all rutty,” the omega told him. “Do not embarrass Tony.”

“Boyfriend?” Bucky asked, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. The brunet alpha was immediately up in Loki’s personal space, trying to intimidate and size him up all at once.

“Boyfriend, hm? A good one this time hopefully?” Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “The best. Harley-approved and all,” Tony told him, biting his bottom lip as he watched Loki and his father.

He looked up and came face-to-face with icy-blue eyes. The alpha had a white coat on, meaning he was a doctor.

“I-I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Tony stuttered, his face turning red the longer he looked at this alpha. The man smiled slightly and handed over some of the books before helping the omega up. “Not a problem, I was too busy looking at my phone,” the doctor told him. “Dr. Stephen Strange.”

“You have my blessing.” “Stevie!” Bucky protested. “Oh hush. You always get like this, Wade’s not even allowed in our house because you think he’s going to molest Peter,” the blond scolded his mate, swatting at the alpha. “What?” Peter asked, his voice cracking from the shock.

“You’re pregnant?” Steve exclaimed, immediately off of the couch and running over to hug the three of them excitedly. “I’m gonna be a grandma!” “Well, yes and no,” Loki said with a chuckle. “Anthony isn’t pregnant.” “Then what do you mean?” Peter asked, his brow furrowing. “Riri, you can come out now, darling,” Stephen called. Everyone watched with wide eyes as the little alpha girl came out of the kitchen, running over and hiding behind Tony’s legs.

“Honey! Babe, I’m home,” Steve called as he entered the apartment, tossing his keys onto the table by the door. He closed his door with his foot and carried the grocery bags into the kitchen. “Brock?” “Yeah, Steve, I’m comin’. I was in the bathroom,” Brock answered as he came around the corner. The omega giggled as he started pulling everything out of the bags to start putting away. He purred when arms wrapped around him from behind.

“You- You hit me!” Peter exclaimed. “You never hit me!” “I didn’t mean to! You wouldn’t get off’a me!” “‘Cause you won’t talk to me! Wade, I’m your best friend, why won’t you talk to me?” Wade growled in frustration and pulled his hood further down over his face when he caught Peter trying to look at him. He smelled of angry, anxious alpha over his unique taco and iron smell.

I'm not making any promises. by Ohlookitsabi, Stucky_Barnes

(Last updated Sep 7, 2018) 3 chapters

steve and Bucky are together, They are happily inlove... but what happens when SOMEONE tries to get in their way? (this is my first fic so I'm sorry in advance)

Popping by himawri45 (kotaka_kun)

*Finished* 2 chapters

Steve and Bucky are expecting (again, or it could be their first), and Steve hasn’t taken the changes to his body so well and with each new change, he grows more self-conscious and embarrassed of his new appearance. The latest change, he noticed one morning, is that his belly button has popped. This makes him super embarrassed not only because of how apparent it looks, but it also is very sensitive and to make matters worse, he gets razzed about it by Bucky, their kids and/or his friends.

Splintered Beginnings by angel_with_a_nuclear_bomb

*Finished* 3 chapters

HYDRA gave up on human experimentation after their 500th subject failed. They theorized that if they changed the original form to something more substantial, the project could survive. Their first subject was immensely successful, vicious yet obedient. Their second subject.... That's a little bit of a different story. But what happens when the Avengers intercept their first subject, and HYDRA's house of cards slowly begins to to fall? *STARRING* Bucky as a chunky wolf Steeb as a tiny wolf and Bucky as a traumatized human Steeb as an even more traumatized human

It's been a long day without you, my friend by AyeeItsJaee

(Last updated Nov 24, 2019) 1 chapter

Packs are the most important thing to Steve. Ever since he was a child he believed he would form a pack with Bucky. And then the war and the serum happened. the two hardly got to even speak. Bucky fell off of the train and Steve crashed in the ice, he thought he was dead. He sometimes wished they never found him. He didn't have his Alpha. Everything changed when hydra attacked Nick Fury and Steve found him again. Bucky was alive. He was alive and taking care of a fourteen year old while is aunt was in the hospital.

Date Night by himawri45 (kotaka_kun)

*Finished* One Shot

“You feeling okay?” “I’m fine,” Steve assured him, “Just Braxton Hicks.” Bucky looked surprised at that. “I’ve been having them off and on all day, it’s no big deal.” “Is it bad?” he pressed. “We can go home if you’re not comfortable, y’know.” “I’m fine, Buck.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Really, it’s okay. Just means my body’s getting ready and all. It’s nothing to be worried about.” Bucky looked unsure but dropped it once Steve began looking over the menu. Steve was glad for it - he didn’t want Bucky to have to spend their night together worrying himself over Steve. Steve could take care of himself.

The Same Star by Annaelle, dolarhyding, Juulna

*Finished* 6 chapters

The year is 2117—nearly 100 years after the Third World War and 50 years after the discovery of the Alpha-Omega gene mutation—and the United Research Space Agency has landed its first manned mission on the recently discovered tenth planet, named Gaia. On this planet, there are now seven souls—that they know of—led by URSA’s finest, most driven Captain; an Omega named Steve Rogers and his loyal Alpha, Bucky Barnes. The mission—a dream mission, a mission the entire population of Earth follows with bated breath—will soon become a nightmare for all involved. The mission is hastily aborted when a freak storm of unimaginable proportions hits suddenly, forcing the team to leave the surface of the planet—all but one. Bucky Barnes is left behind, assumed dead by all, even his grief-stricken Omega. The vast distance between them increases every minute, and it might be more than he—and his mate—are capable of handling. With such distance, it is only a matter of time before Separation Sickness takes them and makes them lose control—the one thing Steve, leader of the Gaia Exploration Crew, cannot afford to lose.

Remember Dreams by Stuckylover4ever

(Last updated July 22, 2020) 11 chapters

In a world where Beta rules the world, Alpha's and Omega's are trying to survive. Going to a college would be hard enough for Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Peter Parker if they weren't dealing with being Omegas in a world where Omega's aren't allowed much. Each one of them is dealing with a pregnancy on top of Steve's health issues. As much as Tony Stark loved his daughter, he didn't want to be a stay at home dad. While he didn't mind it, Tony wanted to have a good education as well. Beta's are known to be given everything while being allowed to do what they want. Alpha's, on the other hand, are required to go to college, get a good job, then settle down. Omegas are only allowed to have families. Going to college isn't allowed for them, and if they do go, then they are looked down upon. Follow them as they learn to love, dream, and change the world. Each one of them has a story to tell, and they want to tell it. Life is hard, but when you are told what you are supposed to do, then life get's harder.

honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch by moonythejedi394, raynaki

*Finished* 17 chapters

Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA. Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further. Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.

Fairy Tales Are Lies We're Told So That We Keep Dreaming by Fallen_Ash

(Last updated June 20, 2019) 5 chapters

This is a story about a group of friends, who came together in the most unlikely of situations, to battle for what they believe is right.

So the Story Says by monsterradio

*Finished* One Shot

A prophecy once said that a warrior with scales for skin and fire for breath would tie with a prince of a kingdom so vast it spanned half the land. Alpha King of Dragons, James, thought it was just a story whispered around a fire until a crow came from the kingdom of Shield, hailing the coming of age of their Omega heir.

What the Doctor Ordered

Conflict of Interest

In Equal Measure

Be Your Alpha if You Wanted

Coming to Terms at the Turn (of the decade) by sarahyellow

*Finished* One Shot(s), 4 chapters

Steve is a sickly adult omega who lives under the custody of the state in the 1940's. He's always insisted on riding out his heats alone but after the disaster that was his last cycle he is forced to choose: pair with one of OmegaHouse's support alphas, or undergo a therapeutic procedure to fulfill his heat.

Much to Steve Roger's chagrin, a handsome new alpha is assigned to his hall at the Brooklyn Heights OmegaHouse.

Things in the House haven't changed too much in the past year and a half. Well... some things have. Steve's turned eighteen now, he's started courses at the community college. Alexander Pierce has been elected the 33rd president of the United States. Oh, and James/Bucky? He's Steve's hall alpha and he's kind of growing on him. Until he isn't.

Another look into the lives of Steve Rogers and James (Bucky) Barnes at the Brooklyn Heights OmegaHouse. Steve and Bucky are still diametrically opposed.

Things've been confusing between them ever since his heat. Bucky had given Steve what he’d needed, and Steve’s been feeling indebted to him ever since. He’s got newfound respect for Bucky. And… maybe something else. He hasn’t put a name to it yet, has been too afraid to. But it’s been plaguing his thoughts. According to House rules it’s probably inappropriate, but neither one of them knows what to do about it.

Post: Part 4