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dauntless-gothamite · 3 years

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Prove Them Wrong [1/?]

Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric Coulter x Fem! Reader Summary: Y/N is a Dauntless transfer from Erudite, and she has a drive, an ambition that sets her apart--it always has, even back in Erudite. She brings her perseverance (and need to prove others wrong) to Dauntless when she transfers, and she uses her mind to make her way through the initiation process. Along the way, she makes friends and enemies, and she finds herself comfortable around the man most people in Dauntless avoid at all costs: Eric Coulter. A/N: hey, everyone! so some elements of this are based on myself and how I interact with people, mainly because I tend to bond with people who are not well-liked (i.e. I got along well with teachers everyone hated, consistently). I plan to keep most descriptions of the reader vague so you can insert yourself, though! this first chapter is a little bit slow, but I am already well into writing chapter 2, and I am really excited about where this fic is going! Enjoy!!

“Dauntless!” Marcus Eaton called out--Abnegation was hosting the Choosing Ceremony this year--and as your blood hit the burning coals, a series of cheers and claps erupted from the fearless faction. You took your place next to the other Dauntless transfers and snuck a glance at your family. Your parents looked sad--disappointed, almost--but it was nothing compared to the way some parents reacted to their children choosing another faction. Your father caught your eye as he pulled a handkerchief from his crisp blue suit and handed it to your mother, who was just barely containing her tears. Quickly, you looked away. A moment later, a girl with dirty blonde hair sat down beside you. Her loose grey clothing indicated she was in Abnegation, or at least she had been. She was Dauntless now, and so were you.

A series of names you only half heard filled the room, and before you knew it, the ceremony was over. Then, as if they’d been waiting for the chance to get up from their seats, all the Dauntless rushed out of the building, racing for the train tracks. You and the other initiates stared at them as they began to climb, shocked. Sure, you knew you’d be taking the train, but you’d never thought about how you’d actually get there. Shoving the thought out of your mind, you began to climb, the Abnegation girl from before and a girl from Candor scaling the poles on either side of you. Once you made it to the top, you saw everyone standing in a line, facing away from the train. That’s when it hit you: they were going to run and jump onto the train. This was unlike anything you’d ever done, but it was exciting, and you knew that with the right speed and angle, you’d be fine. When the rails started to vibrate and the train came into view, you took off.

You weren’t the fastest, but you weren’t the slowest either, and that was worth something. At the very least, you would make the train. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw an opening, and without hesitation, you jumped. It was so different from life in Erudite. There, nothing was done without consideration. You had to look at a problem from all angles and weigh the possibilities, consider the outcomes of every scenario, even for the simplest of tasks. Here, you could just do. It was liberating, and you knew you’d made the right choice. Although, it would be damn near impossible to drop all of the habits you’d picked up in Erudite. Some aspects of the scholarly faction were simply a part of you; it would be impossible to erase that. But, for the sake of your survival, you’d have to do your best.

“Hey,” said a voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a boy with brown hair and dark eyes, which stood out against his pale skin. “I’m Albert,” he said. “But everyone calls me Al.” He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, glad to have already made one friend. You smiled before turning away to look out at the city; the train provided a great view when it wasn’t in the center of the city surrounded by buildings. While you were looking at the skyline, you saw movement and heard screams of both terror and excitement to your left. You turned to see what was causing the commotion, and you saw people jumping from the train onto a gravelly roof.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Al said as he joined you at the edge of the train.

“This is crazy,” you agreed. But whereas Al looked terrified, you were grinning, adrenaline from boarding the train still pumping through your veins, making you aware of each and every nerve in your body. Then, with the roof coming up, you took a few steps back, ran forward and jumped.

Your body hit the gravelly roof hard, ripping a hole in your blazer. Thankfully, it seemed like that was the only thing that broke; your body felt perfectly fine, if a little sore from the impact. You looked around to see Al a few feet away from you, and you smiled, glad he’d made it. The two of you got up and headed to the other end of the roof, where the initiates who had already jumped off the train stood facing a tall man with cropped hair and neck tattoos. “Alright, listen up,” the man said when the last car of the train passed the edge of the roof. If someone wasn’t off of it yet, there was only one stop for them now: factionless. “I’m Eric, one of your leaders here at Dauntless. I will also be overseeing your training, which began the second your blood hit the coals. So, rather than waste any more time, let's get on with it. You want to get into Dauntless, this is the way in. Who is going to jump first?”

At this point, everyone was peering over the ledge Eric stood on, more focused on what was behind him. A dark hole in the concrete far below where we stood. You looked around you, nodding at Will, who you knew from Erudite, happy to see a familiar face amongst all this chaos. As you moved towards him, the girl from Abnegation who had sat next to you earlier stepped forward. “Me,” she said, volunteering to jump first. Everyone looked around with wide eyes while Eric scoffed.

“The Stiff? Alright.”

Unbothered, the girl stepped onto the ledge, and a few seconds later, she disappeared into the shadowy depths of whatever lay below.

Watching the girl in grey jump first had sent a shock of surprise through you, but it was followed by something new, the desire to try this new and dangerous thing before you, and as the third jumper stepped off the ledge, you found yourself stepping forward, volunteering to go next. As you stepped onto the ledge, Eric raised a pierced brow at you, waited a few seconds for the previous jumper to get off of the net, and jerked his head towards the net, motioning for you to jump. And then, in a silent response, you jumped, a smile unexpectedly gracing your lips as you made contact with the net below, landing with a bounce. You turned to the man standing next to the net who helped you out of the net, and he introduced himself as Four before directing you to stand in line with the other initiates who had already jumped. Minutes crawled by as you waited for the rest of the initiates to jump, and after what felt like forever, Eric landed in the net and directed his cold stare at the initiates lined up as he slid off the net without Four’s assistance--though it didn’t seem like Four was inclined to help him, either. Interesting.

The transfer dorm was small, crowded, and damp--somehow it was exactly what you expected and entirely different at the same time. As everyone claimed a bed, Four and Eric stood near the door, ready to make an announcement. You smiled at the Candor girl with short, black hair who was setting up the bed next to yours, about to introduce yourself when one of the trainers by the door--most likely Eric--cleared his throat, silencing the room. “Welcome to Dauntless, Eric said. “As Four just explained, this is where you will be staying for the next few weeks while you complete your training. You will receive more information about the training process tomorrow morning at the first session, but for now all you need to know about it is that the training room is three floors up, down the hallway, and to the left. Meet in the Pit, which is upstairs, in fifteen minutes for some announcements from Max and dinner.” Then, he left.

“That guy is all business, huh?” the girl you were about to introduce yourself to said lightly.

“Yeah,” you smiled back. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Christina,” she replied with an outstretched hand. As you shook her hand she looked you over and said, “So, Erudite. What made you want to transfer?”

“Well, it is best for one to go to a place for which they are well-suited…” you trailed off. “What about you, Candor?”

“Candor is a place of words and action, with slightly more words. I wanted more action,” she shrugged. A thud on the bed on your other side distracted you before you could respond, and you turned around to see familiar light green eyes.

“Will!” you said, wrapping your fellow Erudite transfer in a brief hug. You’d vaguely registered his name at the choosing ceremony followed by the word “Dauntless”, but it hadn’t really dawned on you until now that there were fellow Erudite transfers here. “Have you seen Edward?” you asked.

“Yeah, he’s right over there,” Will replied, pointing to the corner of the room. You waved at Edward, and he smiled back as he continued setting up his bed.

“Amazing,” you said softly, more to yourself than to Will. “By the way, this is Christina, she’s from Candor,” you said, remembering your new friend. Will shot her a smile, and Christina reached out to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said enthusiastically.

“Likewise,” Will replied. Seeing all of your fellow transfers getting to know each other was exciting, and even though you wanted to stay in this room with all of them and get to know everyone else, you knew it was a better idea to start making your way to the Pit; there was rarely a time when showing up early was a bad thing, and leaving early would make sure you got there in time even if you got lost along the way. As you started to head out down the hallway, the former Abnegation joined you, seeming to have the same idea. “Hi,” you said, introducing yourself. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Tris,” she replied quietly. “You were in Erudite, right?” she asked.

“I was. And you were in Abnegation?”

“Yeah.” There was something sad about the way she said it, but you decided to let it go; you didn’t really know her yet. As you were thinking of what to say next, Tris interrupted your thoughts saying, “My brother just transferred there. To Erudite, I mean.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll love it,” you said, smiling fondly as memories of the Erudite libraries surfaced in your mind. “You get to spend so much time learning and teaching others, and they actually respect personal space--at least a little bit. I’ll even let you in on a secret: the suits are much more comfortable than they look, I promise.” She laughed a little bit at the last statement, and you relaxed, starting to enjoy her company.

As it turned out, you and Tris had no trouble finding the Pit, and it wasn’t surprising that you were the first ones there. Both of you sat down, and you did your best to ignore the occasional looks from Four and Eric as they stood on a balcony overlooking the Pit with Max, the head of Dauntless leadership and the faction’s representative when the five factions held council, and talked amongst themselves. Soon, thankfully, a few more of the transfers sat down with you and Tris, and they were soon followed by a steady trickle of transfers, the room getting louder with each person who entered. Max walked to the edge of the balcony and called for everyone’s attention, and the room got quiet, a nervous excitement filling your body.

“Welcome, initiates,” the leader’s low voice filled the room. “We are glad to have you here at Dauntless. Here, you will be trained to be protectors of our city. You will be tested physically, emotionally, and mentally, and it will be hard, but you will come out stronger and braver, which is what you need to be to survive in this faction. Your training starts tomorrow; you will be working with Four and Eric, the initiates who aren’t transfers will be working with Lauren. For now, dig in, you’re going to need your strength for tomorrow.” Cheers erupted across the room, and people got up to grab food before racing back to their new friends. This was the beginning of something new for everyone, and excitement raced through your veins. You were ready to start your new life.

#motherfxking-flannel #motherfxking flannel #eric coulter #divergent #divergent imagine #dauntless #erudite #tris prior #four #tobias eaton #amity #candor #abnegation #veronica roth #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter x reader

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tartglias · 4 years

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almost falling (headcanons)

characters: scaramouche and xiao

warnings: VIOLENCE. i’m 98% sure i kept it slight but just in case don’t read if you’re sensitive please!!

request: “Anyway, so I'm requesting for Xiao and Scaramouche (fitting, they're sadists HAHA) their s/o (separate) is about to be thrown off the balcony after someone pushed them and hit the railings and they're about to hang on edge of their life. The boys just came back after whatever mission or errand they finished and saw the blasphemous attempt of a masochist (because how DARE they attempt such on their s/o?) Trying to kill their love. They sprinted or used their powers to get to them and stopped calamity from unraveling (sorta) into their world. Yes add some Overprotectiveness and probs them hunting to rip that masochist's head if it's not too much. Headcanons pls--“

[a/n: i loved this headcanon and i knew what you write from the start (which i never do lol), but the mental gymnastics i had to do to find the vocabulary omg... i can’t say i’m a big fan of how this turned out because of that]

•••••

Scaramouche

Scaramouche had to do some business in Mondstadt, and since you wanted to visit your friend Amber, why not accompany him? It took a while to convince him since he usually doesn’t like the idea of mixing his personal and work lives, but he has a soft spot for you, believe it or not. Not that he would ever admit it.

Before he left you to do your things, he made you promise to meet him at the Good Hunter after an hour, on the dot. He had a busy schedule, but he still wanted to treat you lunch so you excitedly agreed by kissing his cheek and nodding.

After the meeting, he hoped to see you sitting down at one of the tables waiting for him, but instead, he saw no one. “I thought I made myself clear about punctuality” he thought.

“Did you see my partner? They’re about this height tall, *hair color* and probably accompanied by some friend called Amber?” he asked the girl that took orders at the Good Hunter, with a very obvious fake smile. “Not really, I’m sorry” she said, giving an apologetic look, which quickly turned into a frown. “Although, I thought Outrider Amber was out on a mission today. She even ordered some food supplies this morning, are you sure your partner was with her?”

He took a moment to think. He knows you were meeting with Amber because you kept rambling about how you haven’t seen her in forever and you wanted to surprise her. He can’t recall a time when you lied to him, either. Something about having an honest and open relationship with him, so you couldn’t have lied. And you wouldn’t leave the city without informing him, either.

So he decided to scratch out the possibility of having to search you through all Mondstadt. Then, he nodded towards the girl and left without saying a word.

Walking through the city, he paid attention to details. Something was off, he was sure of it.

After a while, he heard a yell. At first he wasn’t going to do anything about it, it’s not his problem plus he still has to find you. But when he realized the owner of the voice yelled “Leave me alone!”, he knew it was you. He ran towards the origin of the sound and found out that you were on top of the wall that protected Mondstadt.

He climbed as fast as he could and when he got to the top, his blood boiled at the sight.

A big tall man was holding your arms tightly, and then pushed you to the edge. Your back hit the railing and you let out a pained yell. You saw the man approach you with intentions of pushing you again, but before you could lift your arms to protect yourself, you heard thunder.

“You heard them, leave them alone. Now” you heard Scaramouche say. The atmosphere became dark and tense very quick, making a shiver go down your spine.

The man let out a short laugh. “You can’t intimidate me so easily. They were mine first, I’m just reclaiming my property”

Oh boy

“I don’t think you heard me, stupid. Leave them alone, now. Or I’ll make sure you suffer the most painful and slow tortures ever imagined. I have a whole book I want to test out anyways, you know.” Scaramouched threatened, and when you saw the look on his face, you gasped. You never saw him like that

He had a creepy smile, no, it was the smile of a sadist, actually. Small thunders came out of his fingers, and by each second, they grew stronger. You noticed that the man started shaking, now reconsidering everything. Scaramouche tilted his head a bit and let out a laugh. “You don’t want to play anymore?”

The man quickly left, or more like ran for his life without sparing you a second glance. You dropped down to the floor and noticed the sky get clearer, and so did the sound of thunder. You were still teary-eyed and overwhelmed from the situation with the man, but you lifted up your head to see a calmer Scaramouche.

You didn’t notice before, but his purple eyes were sparkling with pink thunder, and once he kneeled down in front of you, they turned back to their original color.

He wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close and away from the edge. “Are you alright, my beloved?” he asked you, a hint of concern filling his face. “Now I am. Scaramouche... I never saw you like that” you said, holding his hands that previously let out sparks and thunder.

You heard him sigh. “I lost control. Your scream and then seeing you almost falling... it made me snap. I can’t lose you.”

You kissed him, hoping that this way he can understand that you’re not scared of him and also reassuring him you’re not going anywhere either.

“You scared him for life” you said once you pulled away, laughing slightly. “I’ll scare him for eternity because he won’t be alive after I catch him”

Xiao

He told you numerous times to call his name if you ever found yourself in trouble. Even if it’s just a whisper, a thought even, you just have to say “Xiao” and he would drop whatever he was doing to come to rescue you.

In full honestly, you thought you could handle things on your own. You didn’t need him to come to rescue you, unless a very real danger was knocking on your door. Which unfortunately, leads to this situation.

Moments earlier, you were at the top floor of the inn, waiting for Xiao to come back. Everything was normal, until you noticed two suspicious looking men approach you. At first, you didn’t think much of it since adventurers often ask you for certain locations or roads. But this thought quickly changed when one of them came from behind, a little too close for your liking, before covering your mouth with his hand.

“A little birdie told us you’re close to an adeptus” one of the two men said, standing in front of you with a smug smile. “We need a favor”

It happened very quick, you were fighting for your life as you screamed and tried to kick the man holding you down. You almost succeeded, if it wasn’t for the other man in front of you. He held your arms tightly and pushed you towards the edge, you lost your balance and tripped over it, but quickly managed to grab onto the railing.

“Go on. Call the adeptus for help, we’ll love to have a small chat with-“ the man started saying, but got cut off by a strong wind that made him trip over. It was Xiao.

His eyes immediately landed on you, you were trying so hard to lift yourself up but you were slowly slipping. You weren’t going to last much longer and rage filled both his body and mind almost instantly.

How dare they lay a finger on you to get to him? “Worthless. Pathetic. Stupid.” he muttered each time he hit the men, until knocking them out. His eyes went back to you, and he immediately sprinted towards the railing.

But he was late

Your hands that desperately tried to grip the railing and lift yourself up were red and they hurt, and just when he was about to extend his hand for you to take, you slipped and fell.

You thought it was over, truly. You yelled out Xiao’s name as you tried to get hold of anything that could possibly prevent you from hitting the ground, but you were far away and the floor was coming closer and closer. You closed your eyes, ready to face your end.

But that end didn’t come, and you found yourself wrapped in Xiao’s arms while strong winds surrounded you, keeping you from hitting the ground abruptly. Once his feet touched the floor, you heard a faint sigh of relief from him.

Now on the ground, you dropped to the floor while you sobbed in Xiao’s arms, suddenly very aware of how close you came to meeting death. He kept you close to his body, as if you’re gonna slip away from him again. He faced many monsters and wrath in his life, but he never felt as scared as he did at the moment.

“I’m sorry” Xiao muttered out once your crying calmed down. Drying your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, you looked at him questioningly. “You almost died because they were after me”

This made you cry more

He was kind of confused? Why were you crying again?

“Xiao you don’t have to apologize because its not your fault at all and you also saved me! I should apologize for not being careful and tripping!” you sobbed again. “But it’s not your fault either...” he whispered as he patted your head, not sure how to calm you down.

Xiao doesn’t kill humans, but nothing is going to stop him from making hilichurls, mages, and other monsters appear in the way of these two men. He’s going to make them pay (indirectly)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche scenarios #scaramouche imagines #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons #xiao scenarios #xiao imagines

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midday0nightmares · 3 years

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32 - forever lost (m).

Previous chapter a week later (m).

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

You were stirred awake by jaemin’s hands that roamed up your body, his hot breathes hitting the side of your face.

your mind registering that he must have uncuffed one of your hands whilst you were asleep, His lips letter gentle kisses to the side of your face as you eyes flutter open, “I’ll be back in a while” he whispers into your ear as not disturb you much, “go back to sleep baby” he buries his face in the crock of your neck, filling his chest with your scent, butterflies burst in your stomach at the sweet gesture..“mmh kay” you purr with content and joy.

And just like he was a fleeting dream, he withdraws form you and disappears letting you drown back into slumber.

.... The door was shut, it won’t open, it was cemented on every side expat for the small slit under it, you try knocking, shout for someone, anyone, but to no avail.

you try the window, it opens, but the sight is even scarier. The city is quiet, too quiet. No traffic in its usually busy streets, every window in the near buildings were closed, no birds in the sky, not a single sign of life, even the sun seems to be stuck in its place, time isn’t moving.

Outside the closed door, you can hear muffled sounds, you peak under the door and see the familiar white socks on a pair of feet moving around the room. you shout and scream for him, but he doesn’t even flinch, he just keeps going through his day.

You were forgotten, forever lost in his room ....

Your body jerks awake, the sun glares at you through the open window, you cant feel your left hand as it’s still cuffed to the bed, you sit up to wave the sleepiness, you look around trying to get a grip on reality.

Too grumpy and too sweaty to look for the key, you call for jaemin but no response, he must haven’t returned yet, Where the hell is he? Its noon.

You look under the pillows and over the bedside table, you look through the drawers but you can’t find it, You opt to ask jeno for help

“Jeno~” you call him but he doesn’t responds too, you know he’s home because the TV was on, you knock on the wall until the door opens with him standing with disingenuous smile.

“Yes?”,

you can tell by his tone that his tolerance of you is already thin.

“I need to pee”

you pout, but he doesn’t even pat a lash.

“so pee”,

he deadpans tells you to pee your pants.

“Come on don’t be like that, help meee”

you whine, but he doesn’t budge.

“I’m not getting involved between you two”,

he turns around and walks away..

“no no wait at least get me water, jeno!”,

but to your frustration your words fall deff to his ears. You huff and throw yourself back into the sheets muttering curses.

With nothing to do, you drift back to sleep..

The slammed door wakes you up, it’s dark outside and jaemin is finally back,

“Hey..you’er back”, you mumble happily, ready to be free again.

He flicks the lights on causing you to squint in attempt to adjust your vision, He dosn’t spar you a look and goes to the closet, he opens its door and takes out a bag and starts throwing in a random selection of clothes.

You still groggy with sleeplessness, you rub your eyes and sit up, “Jaemin, baby what are you doing?”,

he wipes his nose with his sleeve and you realize he was crying.

“We are leaving”,

he tells you with a tight jaw.

With too many questions crowding your mind you ask him “Leaving.. where? Why what happed?”,

He turns to face you, and you see his puffy eyes still had tears in them.

He keels next to the bed and opens the safe..

His strange behavior alarming you even more,

“jaemin, what going on?”, fully awake now, you demand an explanation.. and before he can gives you an answer a loud knock on the apartment door freezes him in his place.

“Police! Open the door!” The loud man’s voice echoing through the quiet apartment. Jaemin’s face goes pale like he has seen a ghost, he snaps out of his shock and returns to what he was doing, taking his gun out..

“jaemin please”,

you beg him, you are certain that whatever is happening is not good, the knocks get louder and more urgent.

He fumbles with the key and frees your other hand,

“get up!” he pulls you off the bed with one hand while the other holds the gun, you keep begging him, trying to sooth him, but his tears fall faster as he shouts at you to get up, you can feel the desperation radiates off of him.

Jeno comes running to the door, he opens it and you hear the sound of what sounded like a hundred foot stepping inside the apartment, jaemin runs and locks his door, a dreadful feeling filled you.

You know that this is a serious situation, the police knock on his door but he doesn’t responses, he keeps his back pushed against the door, and it downed on you.. you were locked in a room with a man who have a gun, fear ran through you.

You wanted to say something to soothe the intense situation but you couldn’t find the words.

jaemin opened his eyes and looked at you like an idea have flashed in his mind, your heat was thumbing loud in your ears, he walks towards you. “Jaemin” your eyes fill with tears and you cry without a reason but utter fear, your body moves by itself and you take a step back until your knees were met by the edge of the bed, you keens buckle when he comes closer..

you could barely hear the knocks on the door and the men who were trying to coax him out.. they all seemed too far away.

His tall body looms over you, his eyes had no tears in them, no love, no warmth.

Everything seems to disappear and time seemed to have stopped for a second, you break in violent shakes..

You can see the storm of thoughts behind his eyes, grief tugs at his lips as they twitch when he comes to his decision..

“no jaemin..” You hardly get the words out, he looks at his gun and shakes his head to himself, a sad, ironic laugh escapes his chest “just when I was happy…” his shoulder shakes, his laughter sounds painful, like it was being ripped out of his lunges.

His arm wipe the tears from his eyes and he looks at you, he’s back into his head again.

heated emotions rises up to the surface again, anger, fear, spiraling out of control as fresh tears burst out of his eyes. His hand comes to rest on the back of your neck and he pulls you into him, he rest his head on top of yours, his hand affectionately smoothes your hair, he sways both of you while shushing your cries “its going to be alright”, you stay like this for a minute and oddly it brought you peace.

He kisses the top of your head and pulls back, your hands grip his sides to bring him back to you, he stands over you, “I’m sorry.. ” chocks on his words “I’m taking you with me”..

“No jaemin we still can fix this” you desperately try to stop him, to get him to think again but all hope dies when he points the gun at you.

You heart sinks at click of the safety switch on the gun, his hand dangerously shaking, he sobs and wipes his eyes and blinks to clear his vision.

“Jaemin..”

Everything has stopped at that moment, too shocked and heartbroken to speak, the disbelieve dissipate quickly and its replaced by great sense of disappointment by your short life, sorrow to everything you haven’t had the chance to do yet, how could it all end this quick? like this?.

“Please don’t..” You beg him even you know it won’t help you now..

“Close your eyes my love” he asks you.

You close your eyes, letting go, peace rushing through your veins, you see the sequenced events of your short life flash, all the memories, all the regrets, all the mistakes.

“I will be right there with you” he tells you.

The violent hit pierced through your head, burning its way to the other side, your can hear your skull shattering, you lose your senses quickly as you fade away, the celling of his room disappears as you slip out of life.

Outside the door, jeno hears the gun fires and he knows he has just lost one of you, the ground disappears from under him as he collapse to the floor.

The police breaks the door, but another gun shot breaks as jaemin takes his own life.

What have started as a simple arrest, ended with a murder-sucide.

A new break in the case of jaemin’s mother suspicious death was made, a new piece of evidence was found proving that the only suspect they had was in fact her killer, it was non other than her son na jaemin.

#nct dream #nct yandere #nct mafia #nct dream yandere #nct jaemin #nct jeno #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct agnst #nct angst #nct fluff nct smut #na jaemin #lee jeno

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cherryobx · 3 years

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Environmentalists//Kiara Carrera x reader

request:

summary: You are an environmentalist who moves to the Outer Banks. When Kiara hears about you, she knows she has to meet you.

warnings: language (1 word lol), fluff, kissing ig

WC: 1,7k

(not my gif, creds to the owner!!!)

You had been planning on moving for a while now. You wanted a quieter life away from big cities and cars honking every two seconds. You hated it. You absolutely hated it. You had known since you were a little girl that this wasn't the life for you.

You were luckily quite wealthy and you had enough money to start a new life somewhere else. When you talked to your parents about moving, they were very supportive of the idea. You told them about where you wanted to move and that you wanted to build your own house there. You had enough money so why not.

So, you quit your job in the city, packed most of your belongings with you and moved to the Outer Banks. Kildare to be specific. The decision to move there wasn’t hard. You had visited the place a few years back and you fell in love with it. It was the most beautiful place to you in the whole world.

When you first arrived there you checked out the property you had bought. The work there had already begun and the fundamentals of the house were already there. It was a good idea to start the process of building before you had even arrived. Your dad had helped you hire a group of people who knew what they were doing but you wanted to hire a few locals as well.

The one thing you decided on was that you wanted to stay on your property while it was being built. So, you rented yourself a caravan to live in.

When JJ and John B saw that there was a really good job opportunity, they decided to take it. The place they needed to work at wasn’t even far away from the chateau so it was the perfect job for them.

“Hey! You’re JJ and John B, right?” you asked the two boys who were walking up to you. They both gave you a confirming nod.

“Yay, I remembered your names,” you giggled. “So the guys are already working over there,” you pointed towards them, “so go over there and ask them what you have to do. And if you want to drink some water or eat some snacks, I set up a table for you all as well. If you have any questions I’ll be in that caravan.”

John B and JJ gave each other a look. It was their first day, they hadn’t even done anything yet, but you were being so unbelievably nice to them. It was something new for them since their other bosses in the past had treated them like shit.

A few months passed and the house was coming together. You had some finishing touches you still needed though. Like solar panels.

You were an environmentalist and doing everything in your power to change the world for the better. But it was hard because humanity had already done so much damage that it was really hard to make anything happen. However, you really tried. Change happens with one person at a time - a sentence you liked to live by.

“Yes, just put them over there for now. We’ll deal with them on Monday. It’s too late anyways. Go home, get some sleep.” You stood by and gave orders as the builders carried the panels one by one. Once they were finished, everyone went home.

“How does she have that much money though? That’s my question,” JJ said, opening the fridge and taking out two bottles of beer, offering one to his friend.

“Her parents are probably rich.” John B shrugged as he took the beer from JJ and popped the cap off.

“Yeah, but like solar panels?”

“What solar panels?” Kie asked as she walked into the kitchen. It was Friday night. That’s when they got together with the pogues to just drink and hang out. Pope was on his way as well.

She hopped onto one of the counters, very interested in the answer that was about to come. “You know that girl who moved here a few months back, our boss?”

“You mean the one who’s building her own house?”

“Yeah, her. She bought solar panels and they arrived today. We’re setting them up on Monday.” Suddenly Kie became very fascinated by her friends’ boss.

“What is she like?” she asked.

“Really nice. The best boss ever, for sure,” JJ said, taking a swig from his bottle.

John B continued. “Umm she’s a few years older than us. Sometimes she sits close where we are, watches us work and just talks to us. She’s an environmentalist, so the house we’re building is really energy efficient. And yes, she’s the best boss. She pays us generously and we get the right amount of breaks. She even gets us snacks and water. I don’t really know, that’s about it.”

“She sounds really cool. Can I come with you on Monday?” Kie asked, a hopeful look on her face. As soon as John B said that you were an environmentalist she knew she had to meet you. There weren’t many girls like you on the island. Plus, you seemed to be super awesome. She could use someone like you in her life.

“Uhh I don’t know.” John B looked at JJ and he looked back at him smirking. “Kie, you haven’t even met her and you’re already crushing on her.”

Kie rolled her eyes. “Ugh, shut up. Can I come or not?”

They agreed, so on Monday Kiara walked to work with them. She was nervous to say the least. JJ had been right. She hadn’t even seen or met you but she was already hooked. She had fixed her hair at least 10 times before getting there.

“Calm down, Kie,” JJ chuckled, patting Kie on the back.

Then she saw you and she swore her heart stopped beating for a second. You were nothing like she had imagined. You were even more beautiful. She loved the way your hair was moving in the light morning breeze or how you smiled and gestured with your hands as you were talking to your employees. It was like your smile was brighter than the sun. She was so invested in watching you, she almost tripped.

To her luck, JJ caught her just in time. “Relax, Romeo.”

As they walked closer, you finally noticed them coming towards you. You were a bit confused, seeing a girl with them. You smiled and waved at them. They waved back.

“Good morning, John B and JJ!”

“Good morning!” The boys said in unison, making you laugh.

“And who are you?” you turned to Kiara with a warm simile. “I’m Kiara,” she introduced herself, offering you a hand to shake which you did.

“I’m Y/N.” Kiara smiled as she repeated your name under her breath.

“Well, we better go...you know...do some work and stuff.” JJ and John B ran off as you and Kiara stayed back.

“So, what brings you here today?” you asked.

“Umm, I’m friends with John B and JJ and they told me a little about you. They told me that you are an environmentalist?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Me too! When they told me about you I knew I had to meet you. There aren’t many activists around here so…”

“They told you about me?”

“Yeah. I heard them talking about some solar panels and then it led to the conversation about you. They told me great things about you.”

You and Kiara talked for almost an hour before she asked if you’d been to her parents' restaurant. You told her that you hadn’t.

“Well, I can take you there if you’d like to.” She was really hoping that you want to.

“Sure, I haven’t had breakfast yet anyway.”

You grabbed your bike and told Kie to sit on the rack of your bicycle. You didn’t have a car and the reason was simple. You didn’t need one. Why buy a car and waste money on gas (which is harmful to the environment) when you could just use your bicycle to get around. The island wasn’t that huge.

Kie was hesitant at first but you told her that you’d get there quicker. Then she finally agreed to get on the bike. “Wrap your arms around me.” Kie’s heart started beating faster as she did so. You were so close to each other now.

You two rode to the Wreck in about 20 minutes. The silence was comfortable around you two. It was like you’d known each other for years. In reality, it’d been an hour. Well, that’s probably what it was like to meet someone you’re so similar to, someone you connect with.

After eating, Kie took you to her favourite places on the island. You two spent the entire day together. You really liked her. She had this specific energy that matched yours. You felt like you had found the one.

The day ended with you two sitting on the edge of a dock, watching the sunset. You leaned closer to Kie and rested your head on her shoulder. It was a beautiful moment. A one you were sure you’d cherish forever.

Kie smiled. She was happy. Like really happy. She hadn’t felt like this in a while. She liked you as well and really hoped that the feelings were mutual. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing to find a person you liked like this. She had known you for only a day but she could imagine a future with you.

So when you rose your head to look at Kie, she shot her shot.

She pressed her lips against yours and gave you a short and sweet kiss that left her wanting more now once she’d tasted your lips.

When she pulled away, you had a shocked expression on your face. You weren’t expecting that. But you liked the butterflies it gave you.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I thought-”

You shut her up by kissing her again, but this time deeper. The butterflies in your belly flew at a rapid speed as your lips moved against each other. She placed her hand on your cheek to pull you in even closer.

The kiss ended when you ran out of air and needed a breath. Your foreheads rested against each other as you were catching your breath.

This felt right. All of it. You couldn’t wait for what destiny had planned for you two.

taglist: @www-imbored-com @delightfullynlove @tomhardybby @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @ilovejjmaybank @allycat449-blog @teenwaywardasgardian @copper-boom @canibeoneofthepogues @ifilwtmfc @bedazzledbanks @jeyramarie @themaddies-obx @pink-meringues @freddymaybank @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @j-j-may-bank @drewstarkeysbitchh

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#kiara carrera #kiara carrera x reader #kiara carrera x y/n #kiara carrera x you #kiara carrera outer banks #kiara carrera obx #kiara obx #kiara outer banks #outer banks #obx #obx netflix #obx s2

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suituuup · 3 years

Text

that's the kind of love i've been dreaming of

Has Beca mentioned that she hates his guts? Everything is just too… annoyingly nice. His charming smile, his messy but not too messy hair, his sense of humor, and well, his taste in women, as he’s dating the girl Beca happens to be in love with.

Word count: 2005

Rating: T

Entry for Bechloe week, day one: “Because I'm in love with you, dumbass.”

Beta by the lovely @snowonebutyou and thanks to @green-eyed-weirdo for bouncing ideas with me <3

READ ON AO3

The muffled giggle greeting Beca when she steps through the door makes her groan. The deep voice that follows confirms that Chloe is indeed not alone, and Beca briefly considers turning around and… going for a walk or something.

But her feet are about to fall off, she feels gross from her overcrowded subway ride home where she’s pretty sure a dude sniffed her hair, and she is really fucking tired.

She’s just flopped down face first on the pull-out couch when the door to Chloe’s bedroom opens, and two sets of feet grow closer.

“You alright, Becs?”

Beca grunts something inaudible in acknowledgment before she rolls on her back. “M’fine.”

“Hey Beca,” Chicago greets her with a soft smile, and Beca somehow manages to leash in her sneer.

“Hey,” she mumbles, the best she can muster when it comes to Chloe’s boyfriend.

Has she mentioned that she hates his guts? Everything is just too… annoyingly nice. His charming smile, his messy but not too messy hair, his sense of humor, and well, his taste in women, as he’s dating the girl Beca happens to be in love with.

Yep. It’s only been four years and a half; not a big deal.

She was this close to admitting her feelings to Chloe, still reeling with adrenaline after her solo performance, when Chloe ran to Army Boy instead. Beca doesn’t think she knew what a broken heart felt like until that very moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chicago asks, setting his hands on Chloe’s hips.

“Yeah,” Chloe agrees and leans up to kiss his lips. Beca rolls her eyes, grabbing her phone from her back pocket as a distraction from the display of gag-worthy affection.

The door finally clicks shut behind Chicago, and Beca hears Chloe sigh. That kind of content sigh that has jealousy flare up within her because Chloe should be sighing like that because of her.

“I thought he was leaving tomorrow morning?” Beca asks as she scrolls through her Instagram, not really registering the photos zooming past her eyes.

“Not anymore,” Chloe says, biting on her bottom lip like she’s trying to prevent a smile from breaking through. “He’s um, going to be stationed in Brooklyn. His request just got granted.”

A huge lump forms in Beca’s throat as she registers the news and an uneasy feeling seized her stomach. “That’s--” she swallows with difficulty, swiping her tongue over her dry lips. “That’s great, Chlo.”

She soon exits Instagram, opening her safari to look for apartment listings.

Finding an apartment in New York City within her price range, as it turns out, is pretty fucking difficult.

You would think Beca was aware of that given the fact that there used to be one more person living in her current studio, with a simple curtain acting as bathroom walls.

(she definitely has PTSD from that night Amy had food poisoning from Taco Bell.)

When Amy moved out, Chloe took her room, because Beca is the night owl of the two, usually coming home late from work or cooking dinner after Chloe has gone to bed.

It’s pushing eleven by the time she makes it back that night, and she prays that Chloe is already in bed. The past couple of weeks following the news have been… weird, to say the least. Beca has been avoiding Chloe, coming up with excuses whenever Chloe asks her if she wants to hang out.

She makes herself a quick dinner (okay, makes might be a bit of an overstatement: she just pours some hot water over instant noodles. Don’t come at her.) and messes around on her laptop for a while, turning the lights off just after one am.

A moan reaching her ears just as she feels herself dozing off has her eyes fly open. A moan that very much belongs to Chloe, and Beca just wants to disappear off the face of the earth. Quiet laughter follows, and when the bed starts squeaking, leaving no doubt regarding what they’re doing in there, Beca ponders smothering herself with her own pillow.

She grabs her headphones instead, hastily placing them over her ears before she hears something that will most likely scar her forever. It somewhat cancels out the sounds, enough for Beca to fall asleep. She flees the apartment before either of them is awake, drowning her sorrows in a double espresso from the corner coffee shop.

Over the next few days, she excels in avoiding Chloe. She knows Chloe’s schedule well enough to come back when she’s either asleep or not there. Or at least she thought so.

“Hey.”

Beca freezes as she closes the door, looking over her shoulder to find Chloe popping her head out of the fridge.

Beca clears her throat, rubbing her nose with her knuckle as she stares down at the scuff of her shoes. “Hey,” she echoes, setting her keys down on the counter.

“Long time no see,” Chloe says as Beca sits on the edge of her bed to take her boots off.

“Yeah um, I’ve been busy,” Beca mumbles as she undoes her laces.

“Busy avoiding me?”

Beca’s spine snaps straighter at that, and she looks up to meet Chloe’s eyes. “No, just--” her shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “I figured you and Chicago might enjoy some private time together.”

Chloe hums like she doesn’t believe her. “You’d tell me if-- if something was bothering you, right? I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

Beca swallows. “It’s not you, Chlo. I’m just--” she sighs, feeling her frustration rise as she scrapes her brain for a believable lie. “Work sucks and I feel like I’m getting nowhere, so I’ve been crankier than usual.”

Chloe nods, her lips curving in a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you’re having a hard time at work,” she says. “We should go out tonight! It’s been forever.”

Beca’s rebuttal lies on the tip of her tongue, out of reflex. She swallows it back, because Chloe is giving her those puppy eyes she’s mastered so well, and Beca knows damn well she can’t resist. Besides, she could definitely use a drink. Or ten.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

That’s how they find themselves in an overly too loud, busy club a handful of hours later. Beca is definitely tipsy, and Chloe has just ordered shots, so she knows she’s likely to finish the night with her head in the toilet. But she hasn’t laughed like that in a while, and it feels amazing to be… Beca and Chloe again.

It’s ruined just after Beca downs her first shot, when Army Boy shows up.

“Hi!” Chloe exclaims, springing up from her stool to hug him.

Beca grits her teeth so hard that she’s half-concerned they might break, her eyes throwing daggers at Chicago’s head.

“Hey Beca,” he says, apparently oblivious as he slides on the vacant stool.

Beca simply tilts her chin towards him, along with a tight-lipped smile. As Chicago orders his drink with the waitress, Beca shrugs her jacket on. “I’m gonna go,” she announces over the music, not caring one bit that it’s obvious as to why.

She doesn’t wait for a reply, letting her legs carry her towards the exit as quickly as possible as tears burn her eyes. She bumps into someone in her haste and mumbles a disoriented sorry, sucking in a much needed breath as soon as she steps outside of the club.

The music gradually fades away as she starts down the sidewalk, tugging her jacket tighter around her frame when a chill rolls down her spine. She’s not even sure in which direction she’s going, set on hailing the first cab she finds.

“What the hell is your problem??”

Beca freezes at the familiar voice, swallowing around the forming lump in her throat before she turns around. She barely meets Chloe’s eyes. “I’m just tired, Chlo.”

“Bullshit,” Chloe spits out, a scoff flying past her lips as she shakes her head. Her typically warm eyes are bone-chilling icy. “You left the second he got here.”

Beca sighs heavily, her hands forming fists by her sides in an attempt to tame her growing irritation. “Yeah well, maybe I didn’t feel like being the third wheel. I thought it was just going to be you and I, tonight. But you two have been attached to the hip and all you can talk about is Chicago this, Chicago that.”

“Well I’m sorry if I enjoy his company,” Chloe fires back. “You know, the least you could do is be happy for me.”

“Oh great, the guilty card,” Beca says, eyes rolling skyward. She sucks in a sharp breath. “I can’t be happy for you, Chlo.”

Chloe staggers back as though Beca’s words slapped her in the face. “What?”

“I said, I can’t be happy for you,” Beca repeats, her tone rising along with her frustration.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Chloe asks, a mixture of anger, hurt and confusion surfacing in her features. “Why can’t you be happy for me? That’s what best friends are supposed to do, you know. I mean, are you even still my best friend? Because you haven’t been acting like one those past--”

“Because I’m in love with you, dumbass!” Beca finally blurts, a lot louder than necessary. Her declaration catches the attention of a few bypassers, but Beca is too focused on Chloe to care.

She watches as realization dawns in Chloe’s eyes, and all she can hear is her heart beating madly in her ears. She swallows, glancing down at the crack in the sidewalk. “And I’m the biggest idiot in the world,” she mumbles, roughly wiping at her cheeks when she feels a few tears rolling down her skin. “I’ll be out of the apartment by tomorrow.”

Beca is thankful Chloe doesn’t follow her when she turns around and resumes her journey home. She ends up walking all the way, too embarrassed to break down in a cab like in those stupid rom-coms. She texts Amy when she makes it back to ask if she can crash at her fancy apartment, fishing out her suitcase as soon as her friend agrees. Tears keep leaking out, and Beca wipes them away with her sleeve before she starts shoving her clothes into the suitcase, trying to ignore the way her heart aches.

A key slides into the lock just as she’s done packing. Beca straightens and hastily wipes her cheeks dry, even though she knows her bloodshot eyes will betray her.

“You’re really leaving,” Chloe murmurs, her voice barely audible.

Beca sniffles as she heaves her suitcase off the bed and sets it down. “Yep.”

“Why?”

Beca bites back a humorless laugh. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m not a masochist?” She deadpans. “Seeing you and Chicago together isn’t exactly fun.”

“We broke up.”

Beca’s breathing halts as she registers the words. Her jaw slacks. “What?”

Chloe clears her throat a little, taking a step closer. She’s fiddling with her keys, something she does when she gets shy, nervous or nervous, or excited. “Well, I broke up with him.”

“You did?” Beca croaks out.

Chloe nods, the corners of her lips upturning in a sheepish smile. “Because it’s always been you, dumbass.”

Beca’s lungs flood with oxygen, and her shoulders slump, releasing the tension at once. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Chloe echoes, raising an eyebrow as she takes another step.

Beca closes her eyes briefly, her head tilting as she frowns. “Sorry, I think my brain needs to be re-booted. Could you um, could you say that again?”

Chloe chuckles, finally closing the remaining distance between them. She cups Beca’s cheek and joins their lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Beca’s knees quake as a bunch of butterflies release in her belly, and she can’t quite believe this is really happening.

She licks her tingling lips when Chloe pulls away, feeling a bit dizzy. “Um, I’m not sure I quite got that one, either. Care for an encore?”

The first of many, many ones.

#bechloe #bechloe week #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fic

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heartsofbeskar · 3 years

Text

the red wolf

chapter two: a stolen gift

oberyn martell x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death, a smooch™

words: 3.6K

excerpt: A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.”

a/n: the second chapter is here!! im having such a good time writing this tbh; this chapter is based on the first half of the season 4 episode the lion and the rose; im tackling it in two chapters since its a doozy

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The fresh air gently blew across your face as it cascaded over the top of the walls of Winterfell. You leaned on the wooden railing, smiling as you watched your brothers play below. They held wooden swords, clashing them against each other clumsily. Ser Rodrik would surely chastise them for the sloppy footwork, but you enjoyed their dramatics.

Creaking of the boards alerted you to a new presence approaching. Robb smiled gently as he came to stand beside you. He wore a fur robe draped across his shoulders, and you marvelled at just how broad it made him appear. You turned to face him, smoothing the stray furs into line.

“When did you turn into a man?” You teased. He brought a hand up and lightly pinched the skin of your cheek.

“Around the same time my twin sister became a woman.”

You swatted his hand away, but laughed. His eyes held a softness as he turned them away to watch Bran and Rickon, who now wrestled amongst the haybed. You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

“Something’s troubling you.” He didn’t bother to deny it; you had studied your twin’s face from the day you had both been born, after all. “Are you not excited to see the King?”

“I am, but …” He shook his head. “I cannot say I am thrilled with the prospect of my sisters departing at once for King’s Landing. Or my twin sister marrying a man there.”

“Robb,” you sighed. “We can’t stay children forever. Someday, this—” you gestured at large to the courtyard, “—will be yours to lead, along with the entire North. I will be your ears wherever I land — King’s Landing, or otherwise.”

He nodded, but still didn’t meet your eyes again, You pulled him forward by his hand, wrapping your arms around the soft fur on his shoulders. You rested your head on the plush surface, as he wrapped his arms around you in response, both of you leaning into the familiar embrace.

“I will come to see you often, this I promise. My heart will always be with you, in the North.”

—

Your hand was sweating as you laid it on the ornate handle of the large door of Lord Tywin’s office. It was silent inside and you prayed to the Old Gods he was out, having forgotten your appointment entirely. But he had requested it of you specifically via a handwritten parchment, so you knew that you would not be so lucky.

With a large breath in, you pushed the handle down. The door seemed to scream at you as it swung open; stay out, don’t come in here, run for your life from this wretched place all together.

As you suspected, Tywin was inside, head hung low over a parchment he was rapidly writing on, spread over his desk. He didn’t look up as you entered, though he must have heard you.

You slowly closed the door behind you, fighting the urge to flinch as it slammed back into place.

“Come here, girl.” Still, Tywin didn’t look up as he called out to you. Your hand clenched at your side at the name, but you quickly forced it to relax, taking short steps towards his desk. When you reached it, you stood in front of it awkwardly, waiting.

With a large flourish of the quill, he finally set down the writing implement, casting his eyes up towards you. He leaned back in his chair, assessing you. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Lady Stark,” he mused. “With the untimely death of all three of your brothers…you are now the true heir to Winterfell and the North.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing the unbidden images of Bran and Rickon from your mind, their young, innocent faces threatening to fester there. “My lord, I was of the understanding that the Boltons had been granted control of Winterfell and the North.” In exchange for the betrayal and murder of my twin brother, his unborn child, and my mother. You let the ending hang in the air between you.

Tywin tapped the side of his face, his eyes calculating. “Yes, it is true as Hand of the King, I have named Roose Bolton as Warden of the North. But we both know who the people of the North will rally to, if they are called. And that will always be a Stark, as long as one lives.”

You clasped your hands in front you, pushing them into the fabric of your dress, trying to dampen the sweat that collected on them. “My lord … I apologize, but I’m afraid I do not understand.”

He rose now, smoothing down the front of his tunic. Stepping around the desk, he approached you. Slowly, he took your chin in his hand, turning your head to varying angles.

“You are a virgin, yes?”

A chill ran its way up your spine. You nodded.

“Good.” He released your face, turning his back to you as he faced the windows overlooking the city, hands clasped behind his back. “Were you my daughter, I would’ve had you married long ago, but I suppose Ned Stark’s inadequacies are my opportunities. You will be wed to my eldest son, Jaime, once I convince him to quit this Kingsguard business. You will bear him sons, and they will be the heirs to both Winterfell and Casterly Rock.”

Your hands shook in front of you and you clasped them tighter together. When you didn’t say anything in response, Tywin turned his head to look back at you.

“You would do well to interact with him during these upcoming festivities for the King’s wedding. Now go.”

As if you’d be sprung free from a trap, you hurried to the door, eager to be free of this room, which felt like it had hardly enough air in it to breathe. You grasped the handle again when Tywin spoke one last time.

“And girl—” You froze, gripping the handle, breath caught in your throat, and the sudden anxiety gripped you that he would tell you to stay away from Oberyn Martell. But all he said was, “—shut the door behind you.”

—

You didn’t think you could stay away from Oberyn, even if Tywin had asked. It had quickly become a routine, him waiting across the path from the building which held your chambers. You clung ferociously onto the small shred of something predictable in the sea of chaos that this city had washed upon you.

As you tied your bodice behind you hastily, you craned your neck to look over at Sansa, where she was still nestled in the blankets behind you. Her side rose and fell softly in the rhythm of sleep. Padding over, you knelt down, pressing a light kiss against the crown of her head. She rustled momentarily among the sheets, but didn’t wake.

Oberyn was standing in the usual area, arm extended overhead to pry some fruit off a nearby tree. With a small grunt, he freed one that was round and reddish in colour — you were still so unfamiliar with the fruits that grew this far south.

Flashing you his enticing smile, he extended it out to you. You took it with gratitude, allowing him to loop your opposite arm through his. He was warm, the warmth of his skin radiating out as if he’d trapped the air of Dorne within his very body and brought it with him to King’s Landing.

He paraded you superficially through the garden paths lined with Lannister and Baratheon guards, their eyes smoothly looking over the pair of you, some giving small nods in greeting, used to the timely walks you took.

You took a turn down a hedge lined path, the green walls rising high above your heads, and the guard stationed near the next turn leaning back, his view obscured. Oberyn placed his hand gently at your back, pulling the branches back around the gap in the hedge you had found some days prior. You both slipped underneath.

The other side contained an obviously neglected portion of the gardens, some weeds overgrown and flowing out of their beds. Wildflowers had begun to bloom as well, their colours mismatched and vibrant, contrasting to those in the rest of the gardens that were tended to regularly. You much preferred these ones.

You sat on the nearby bench, tucking your skirts in around your legs, allowing the weight of the pretense of happiness to slip off, your shoulders relaxing. Oberyn sat beside you, his knee touching yours, heat radiating from the spot. You turned the still uneaten fruit over in your hands.

“You look far away today, little wolf,” he murmured. “Is it the King’s wedding?” He lightly brushed a lock of hair over your shoulder, fingers remaining to play with it.

“No,” you sighed. “Well, yes and no, I—” You paused, meeting his dark eyes. He stared back into you, waiting patiently. You wanted to lose yourself in his eyes, to dive in so deeply you could not see anything beyond them. “I spoke with Tywin Lannister.”

Something flashed in those eyes, briefly, but unmistakably. Still, he didn’t push you for any detail. He brought his hand down from your hair, settling it on your shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. It sat on the edge of your gown, and occasionally his skin came into contact with the skin near your neck. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling.

You finally broke eye contact with Oberyn, unable to look at him for the next words. “He intends for me to wed Jaime Lannister. As soon as he can convince him to leave the Kingsguard. Perhaps he will even overturn their oaths, so that Jaime can marry regardless …” You trailed off, shaking your head.

“What would you want? If you had the choice?” His eyes were warm when you looked back up, his brow furrowed. His free hand clenched where it sat in his lap.

“I don’t know, honestly, I … I thought I would be able to make these choices with my Father, but now—” You bit down on your lip harshly as a sob threatened to work its way up and out of your throat. Oberyn’s hands quickly came to cup your face, holding it steadily as you took deep breaths. “The Lannisters … have taken my home, my family. I don’t want to give them my future as well … there are so many things I don’t want Jaime Lannister to have.”

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.” When your hands slid up to the back of his neck, you knew the implication was clear.

He swallowed thickly. “I do not want to take advantage of you when you are upset, little wolf.”

“Please.”

It was both a second and an eternity before he brought his lips to yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hands tightened on your face, guiding your head as your lips slid against one another.

After the first few presses, he stopped, though he didn’t pull back, your breath intermingling in the miniscule space between you. Your eyes were screwed shut, but you raked your hands up, into his hair. He gave a breathless laugh before crashing back into you, lips pressing insistently now, the taste of his sweet wine permeating into your mouth.

Firmly but gently, his lips pried yours open, hot breath pouring into your mouth, filling your lungs. You felt yourself begin to shake with the intimacy of it. It felt as if he were providing you a new sense of life itself, with every touch, every breath, every sound he made. You had no idea how long it had been.

He swiped his tongue, wet and hot, over your lower lip, before taking it between his teeth, pulling it with him as he finally retreated from you.

With a heavy sigh, he reached an arm around your waist, resting his cheek against yours, and you lamented that you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t even imagine the storms within them now.

You breathed heavily against his cheek, winded as though you’d been practicing your riding. You pressed him tighter against you, turning to plant a kiss onto the edge of his beard. His free hand twisted up into your hair.

“Thank you.”

—

Your hands drifted through the copper strands of Sansa’s hair, twisting the locks delicately around each other, as your mother had taught you. You smiled as you recalled how Sansa used to sit for hours, just letting you practice braiding in her hair, happy to receive attention and affections.

By the Gods, she had changed.

You pushed the thought aside as your hands left her, and you leaned over to peck her cheek, which had been dusted with rouge. “You look beautiful.”

Sansa wouldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror, staring at her own hands curled in her lap. You laid your hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Sansa … this is a day to celebrate. Because you are not the one marrying him.” She looked up to meet your gaze, her eyes brimming with conflicted emotions.

“But they made me marry his uncle. A man decades my senior, an imp, I …” She shook her head. “He hasn’t hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Joffrey had to have gotten his sense of cruelty from somewhere.”

Your hands tightened where they held her. “I will never let him touch you. Or anyone, Sansa. I mean that.”

She stood, shaking off your grip. She was taller than you now, all long lines and elegant neck and the deep, irreconcilable sadness of her eyes.

You wondered if she saw that in yours, too.

“And what if you’re not there?”

You wanted to tell her that you always would be, that no force of man or the Gods could take you from her. But the words caught in your throat. The words your mother and father had told you, as well. Words that had proven not to be true, in the end.

A knock on the door from Shae saved you from the moment. She escorted you out into the bright southern morning. Everyone you passed seemed to have an extra bounce in their step, an extra swing to their arms, extra wide smiles on their faces. Apparently it didn’t matter how awful the King was, if there was still a wedding to throw.

You had to admit the attitude was infectious. And a well needed relief, after the months you had spent waking in terror, your dreams filled with your sister being married to King Joffrey, irreversibly tied to him by the laws of Gods and men.

The King’s breakfast was being held in the gardens, in full bloom now and having been prepared for weeks for this event. A long table sat as the clear focal piece of the area; Tywin, Cersei, and Cersei’s young son Tommen sat there already. Cersei and her father were discussing something in a low voice, despite the loud levels of ambient noise.

A chill shot down your spine as Tywin’s sharp eyes fell upon you, and you looked away quickly.

“This way, my lady,” Shae urged Sansa towards the direction of the King’s table, and you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she left your side.

It was clear the breakfast would not be starting until the King arrived, so you wandered the elaborately decorated area.

Everything seemed to drip in gold, the sheer grandeur of it all overwhelming to your eyes. Tables were laden with every type of fruit and cheese you’d seen since arriving in King’s Landing, and some you hadn’t seen. You spotted one of the red, sweet fruits that Oberyn had picked for you the other day.

“Lady Stark.” Jaime Lannister approached where you stood, hands awkwardly clasping behind his back. You’d heard the rumours from the maids that he’d returned from captivity with one less hand. You hoped Robb had been the one to take it.

“My lord,” you greeted, giving a shallow curtsy. You weren’t exactly sure what the appropriate address was for a man who was not your betrothed but likely would be once he bent to his father’s will.

“Are you enjoying the … uh …” He swallowed. He gestured with one hand — a flesh one — to the surroundings. “... festivities?”

You nodded. “Yes, it’s all very beautiful. You must be very happy to be here to see the King marry.” You knew the words came out somewhat clipped, tense, but you could do little to smooth them.

“I— well yes, it’s been…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. His eyes shifted around the area, seeming like they didn’t want to settle on you where you stood. “I … I know this is no consolation, but I admired your mother. She was a strong woman. A strong mother.”

Swallowing thickly, you cast your eyes down to the table, hand clenching at your side, eyes burning suddenly with the weight of his words.

He started to flounder, obviously putting together that this was not the right thing to say, but before he could sputter himself into a frenzy, a warm hand slid over the small of your back.

“Lady Stark, I was in search of your company.” Oberyn was there, his hand a steady weight against you, reassuring. “If you will excuse me, Ser Jaime.” He flashed a dashing smile at Jaime, who nodded eagerly for relief.

“Thank you,” you sighed, as he led you away from the buffet table. He stopped you once you’d reached a round dining table, which you assumed he’d been seated at. Turning you slightly, he placed a hand to your cheek, looking at you intently. Heat rose to your face as you wondered who was watching.

“Was he bothering you?” he asked, his voice impossibly low.

You shook your head, eyes unable to tear away from his. “No, no, he was just … no.”

For a moment you both stood there, unable to move, until a serving aide passed close by, snapping the tension like a matchstick. Oberyn’s hand left you, pulling out a chair for you. He sat beside you, posture relaxed as he poured goblets of wine, the sweet aroma wafting from the cups. He placed one in front of you, noticing your brief hesitation.

“Do you drink wine?” He smirked, watching as you held it beneath your nose.

“I have tried it, but …” You eyed the contents. It was dark in colour, so rich you couldn’t see through the liquid to the bottom of the cup. “At feasts in Winterfell. I always thought it tasted vile.”

He laughed at that, his head thrown back, and you admired the column of his neck, the golden skin, the muscles you could see move beneath the skin, the smattering of stubble that came down from his beard. You wanted to run your lips up it.

“Try it,” he insisted, bringing his own goblet to his lips. “They do not know how to make wine in the North. A Dornish wine will change your life.”

You smiled at him over your cup, raising it to taste the drink. Sweetness bloomed on your tongue, filling your mouth with tastes of fruits you’d had and fruits you never could have imagined. Heat seemed to follow its trail down your throat.

“Do you like it?” He smiled at you. His hand casually reached up, trailing up and down your arm.

“Oberyn …” You eyed his hand wearily. You couldn’t bring yourself to push it away, but you knew it was too bold of him to touch you so knowingly in the open. At the King’s wedding breakfast, no less.

He was interrupted in whatever he was going to say by the arrival of the King, who settled at the head table, where Tyrion had joined Sansa. A line of lords, ladies, and nobles brought forth gifts of all kinds. Oberyn rested his arm on the back of your chair. A goblet from Mace Tyrell, graciously accepted. A book from Tyrion, which Joffrey scoffed at.

You could feel the tension roll off of Oberyn in waves as the Mountain approached the table. You placed a hand on his thigh underneath the table, where no one could see, squeezing there. He carried a sword, which he placed on the head table. Tywin stood.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, your Grace, freshly forged in your honour.”

Valyrian steel. Freshly forged.

The words were ringing in your head as Joffrey excitedly unsheathed the sword, swinging it wildly.

“Such a great sword should have a name. What should I call her?”

Calls came out from the crowd around you.

“Stormbringer!”

“Terminus!”

“Widow’s Wail!”

“Wolfsbane!”

Your breathing was heavy.

Joffrey smirked. “Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

You shut your eyes, hand unintentionally grasping tighter onto Oberyn’s leg. He gently pried your fingers off, and you turned to apologize, but he just flipped your hand over, intertwining your fingers, hidden under the table covering.

And as you looked at him, you thought you could see that same irreconcilable sadness in his eyes, too.

—

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories @rpcvliz @xsadderdazeforeverx @elinedjarin @qhbr2013 @punkerthanpascal

#mywriting #the red wolf #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell #game of thrones #got #asoiaf

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cinnamonrusts · 4 years

Text

together, we can make it out alive - 1

[a/n: originally posted on my Ao3 and I decided to revamp my series some with my updated writing techniques. Hope you enjoy.]

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*BEEPBEEP BEEPBEEP*

The electronic chimes from your alarm clock blared loudly in your ear. Groans escaped your dry throat as the clock stirred you from your slumber, "Not yet--," your hand fished for the large snooze button on the top of the clock. Five more minutes, that is all you would need. Well, five minutes came and once again the alarm beeped in your ear. Your eyelids slowly lifted as you read the blurry red digits that stared in your face. "3:45 PM", it read. "Shit..." you cursed as you knew that you needed to get up and get around for your nightshift turn.

Your legs swung around the edge of your bed as you stretched with a loud yawn. Daylight peaked in through your blinds and shined directly into your eyes, "I really need some black out curtains," you mumbled to yourself as you made a mental note. This was just your daily routine now. You slept in the morning after getting off work from the Raccoon City Police Department and woke up around 3:00 PM. Ate, exercised, showered, and relaxed all before you pushed pencils on the clock at your desk.

Don't get it wrong. It was a job and you were thankful, but your duties weren't exactly what you expected them to be after the headache that was the police academy. You didn't hate your job, you just didn't -- like it. Also, you really fucking hated Raccoon City. It was not the same place that you remembered as a kid, not to mention all the weird things that had been going on lately. You just really wanted out of there. Maybe go to a warmer city... like Los Angeles or something.

You pushed yourself to a stand and turned around on the balls of your feet to head to the bathroom. When you reached the shower, you turned on the faucet and ran your fingers under the warm water. Just as it reached the perfect temperature, your phone rang. You ignored it and waited for the voicemail to pick up. But it just rang again.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" you yelled at the telephone as you stomped through your apartment to the device on the wall. "Hello?" you answered.

A familiar, yet unwelcomed voice barked from the other end of the line. "[L/N]! Where the hell are you?!" It was Lt. Branagh. "Home. My shift doesn't start until 10." your eyes rolled as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Get your ass over to the station! We've had reports all day of violent attacks all over the damn city!" He couldn't be serious -- it was 6 hours now until your shift! "I don't come in until--," Branagh cut you off, "I expect to see you soon, [L/N]." the call ended.

You kicked the open moving box that sat in front of you in anger. It flipped onto its side and the contents spilled out onto the floor. It was a bunch of papers that you failed to file away and as you picked them up, you noted a familiar picture on top of the mess. The photo displayed two very recognizable faces that had smiles displayed happily.

You and Leon S. Kennedy.

He was your partner in crime during the police academy. Leon was the only one who didn't see you being a woman as a weakness. The two of you hit it off immediately after he introduced himself and complimented your skills.

On top of your heads were colorful party hats that seemed to be a bit too small. Both of your arms were slinked around his shoulders as you pulled him in for a close hug. His right hand was rested on your waist and the left held up a large mug of beer that was about to spill out onto the floor. Your thumb caressed the image of his handsome face and a smirk spread across your lips. You flipped the picture over and in faded pen was your handwriting: "Graduation Celebration! JULY '98"

Leon crossed your mind often. The two of you lost contact with one another after something happened between the two of you. It was as if that party happened yesterday -- the night that he kissed you. Your eyes closed and you could picture Leon's face perfectly - the way that his lips puckered and the way that they felt.

The two of you stood outside of the bar on that warm summer night. Leon was leaned against his shitty blue car that was wrapped in faded paint and rust. You stood in front of him with your arms crossed and your eyes focused on the clear sky that hovered above. Then the sensation of fingers over your skin drew your attention from the sky, to the man. Your gazes locked and his lids were half shut but a smile was on his lips. "Leon, you're drunk, aren't you?" you chuckled. His fingers wrapped around your bicep, "Maybe," he cooed as he brought you close to him. You could feel and smell his breath, it was warm and stunk heavy of booze.

With his free hand, he moved it to your cheek and tickled it lightly with his knuckle. Your [E/C] eyes stared deep into his moonstone ones, Leon's pupils dilated before they closed. His lips met yours. They were smooth but a bit chapped - he must be an avid user of Chapstick, you thought. The kiss was quick but meaningful. When he pulled away, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for another. When the two of you broke apart, you noted the way those moonstone pools in his head looked at you -- you could get lost in them -- forever.

The fond memories brought warmth to your heart that you lost the track of time. Pounds from beneath you interrupted your reminiscence. Your neighbor below screamed through the floorboards. "Hey, you fucking idiot! Stop using all the hot water! You're not the only one who fucking lives here!" he continued to pound and yell. "Shut up, you fuck!" you screamed back as you scrambled to your feet. Your clothing was stripped from your body as you dashed to the shower, and jumped directly into the lukewarm stream.

You knew that Branagh was most likely boiled over in anger because of how late you were already. Once you finished your shower, you pulled on your police uniform, styled your hair into a neat bun, grabbed a bagel, and ran out the door. Your car was parked pretty far down the road and rain began to fall from the sky. What a perfect start to the day. You shoved the bagel into your mouth and dashed for your car. The key slipped in your hands as you fiddled with them to get the door unlocked. Just as you grabbed the correct one, they fell onto the ground and so did your bagel.

"I've already had enough of today," you cursed and sighed to yourself as you bent over to pick them up. When you stood back up, a woman came from nowhere and threw herself onto you. She cried in panic and spoke incoherently. You noted the large wound on her shoulder and blood was seeped heavily into her shirt. "P-Please! Help me!" she grabbed onto your shirt with blood stained hands. "Ma'am!" you yelled and pushed her off of you for your own safety. She stumbled back and fell to her knee, "Let me call an ambulance!" you started to run to a nearby pay phone but she stopped you with a stutter that it was too late. "There's more of them!" her head turned in the direction of an alley to the left, then she took off from the ground in a haste. "Ma'am, wait!" you yelled as you watched her run away around the corner and into the city.

"Who's coming?" you whispered. With curiosity, you walked toward the alley that the woman had looked down but saw no one. Maybe she was one of the crazy people that were noted to be around the city and around the Arklays... If you saw her again, you'd probably call in some backup... the crazy look in her eyes... it unsettled you. You managed to shake the image of them from your mind and focused on getting out of the rain.

As you walked back to your car, you noticed the red stains that were now stained into your uniform. Whatever. You would worry about it after you made it to work. Once you got into your car, the radio started talking about more and more unrest that had spread more and more through the streets. Your finger pressed the power off, "Enough of that." the news was just the same and you just knew that you had to deal with it first hand once you arrived at the station, it just made it worse.

In front of the parking garage for the RPD were several cars that seemed to have been in an accident. Your car couldn't go any further than where you were at, so you hopped out of the vehicle to walk the rest of the way. People dashed around the streets in a panic and it seemed as if it were the apocalypse. You tried to flag people down to stop them but they all ignored you. What the hell is going on?! When you entered the station, there was even more chaos. Officers ran around like wild and some seemed to be injured as well. You felt anxious and confused by everything that was going on. What had gone on in your brief time away?

Phones rang, people yelled, doors slammed, and everything soon overwhelmed you, you could feel yourself going into an overload. But a strong hand on your shoulder was a saving grace. "There you are, [L/N]!" it was Branagh and a brief look of relief washed across his face. "I left a stack of paperwork on your desk. Sort through it and then you're going out on patrol. Some crazy shit is going down..." he gave you a light push in the direction of your desk.

As you walked to the back of the office, you noticed the banner that was spread across the ceiling in blue and yellow.

"WELCOME LEON"

Your heart pumped in your chest and you could feel your skin begin to turn clammy. There was only one Leon that you know of that was a cop. The man that you shared a kiss with and so many more feelings... Leon -- Kennedy? Was he actually on his way here? He always told you that after the academy he would eventually come find you in the city and be your partner again. You thought that it was just a joke -- but now, it didn't seem that way. How could he come here without saying anything to you? No call? No email? Nothing?

Your eyes remained on the banner and you asked your co-worker who sat on the desk beneath it, "Hey, Rita. Who's this, Leon?" She didn't look up from her desk, "I dunno. Some new guy from out of town. Last name starts with a K or something like that. Ask Neil, I'm sure he knows." You could feel a knot in your stomach and you darted to your chair. The desk that was across from you was normally piled high with boxes of paperwork, but now it was cleared off. You leaned over the divider and snatched the piece of paper on the desk. Your eyes darted across the text:

"Leon S. Kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is to... unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names."

The note confirmed it. It was indeed that Leon. You plopped back into your seat and gnawed on the nail of your thumb. Your thoughts were now consumed as to how both Leon and yourself would react when he arrived. You could see it now...

He would laugh with the other officers as they shot the shit with him. He would be in the center of the group, they would slap him on the back and tell him how happy they were to have him on the force. His gaze would eventually land on you and he would excuse himself from them. Leon would smile and show off his perfect teeth. He'd saunter over and slowly shake his head, "I didn't expect to see you here, [F/N]."

You swallowed hard but your thoughts were interrupted when the sounds of glass shattered right outside of the office's door.

The chatter and hubbub in the office halted as everyone's attention turned toward the door. An officer who wasn't much older than you rushed toward the noise, he couldn't make out exactly what it was from behind the glass of the door but drew his gun in preparation. He looked back at the office filled with you and your co-workers before opening the door slowly. "Hello?" he called out. His gun was pointed out into the hallway but found that there was nothing there. Then a sound of something you had never heard before or ever would forget echoed loudly in the empty hall.

It sounded like a monster, there was no other way to explain it. It pierced through your ears and then the sounds of the officer's shrieks shook your core. A loud gurgle erupted from his throat as he was tackled by a person onto the floor. This - person, dug their teeth deeply into his throat and proceeded to rip it out. Bright, red liquid sprayed from the wound across the floor. Two male officers threw themselves onto the assailant and tried their hardest to pull him off but soon were attacked as well. Gunshots blasted off in the office which then were accompanied by more sounds of broken glass. The assailant dropped dead beside the officers on the floor and everyone exchanged glances of pure terror.

"More are out there!" yelled Branagh as he held his weight against the door to stop any more of these "people" from killing everyone his subordinates. "Pistols aren't going to keep us alive for much longer," Rita cried out. "But Irons insisted we hide everything else away, remember!?" your fellow officers shouted at each other as tension rose - fear and panic began to set in.

"I know where some are," you piped up. "I have the keycard for the weapons locker," you reached into your shirt pocket and pulled out a white, plastic card. "Perks of being the newbie, I guess. I'll go." you walked toward the back door but stopped when Branagh barked at you, "You can't go alone!" You shook your head, "I will be right back, I promise." you disregarded his arguments and with a deep breath, opened the door and took off on your mission.

The hall was dark and quiet, the electricity must had been cut out in this section of town. You swallowed hard and with your pistol in on hand with the flashlight in the other, you took quiet yet brisk strides down the long stretch of hallway. All you could hear was the sounds of your bootsteps and the groans of those things that lurked just outside of the fences that kept the building somewhat safe. You needed these guns, no matter what. Or you and your co-workers would end up just like those officers - dead. Your breathing was heavy and your heart raced which could be felt in your skull, "Easy girl," you spoke out, "Just a few doors and you'll be there."

Time was not on your side, so you took off in a sprint. The feeling of being so vulnerable next to a stretch of windows worried you as you could fall victim to whatever those things were at any time. They weren't exactly "things" they looked human and most likely were but maybe they were deranged with some sort of illness. But nonetheless, they were dangerous and deadly... Just as you feared, one of them crashed through the window. Their greedy palms reached for you over the broken glass and managed to snag you by your hair. You screamed in pain and terror as their strength pulled you in but when you pulled away, you only pulled them closer. Your pistol flew from your hands and slid across the floor, too far for you to reach.

Their bloody jaws snapped as they tried their hardest to sink their teeth into your soft flesh. You could feel their breath on your skin and you struggled but could feel your strength giving way to theirs. There was only one thing you could do and it was to grab the knife that was attached to the side of your right leg. Your fingertips were just barely able to reach the handle but with one quick lunge of your body, you grabbed hold of the weapon. The desire to survive charged your strength and you began to saw through the strands of your hair that were gripped tight in the clutches of the creature. Tears poured down the sides of your face as you sawed through the strands that were the barrier between you and certain death.

The creature was now halfway over the window and their hand still had your [h/c] hair in between their fingers, jaws still snapped at you as they begged to taste your flesh. You scrambled on all fours as you attempted to gather yourself so that you could press on. Your foot slipped on a large piece of broken glass which sent you across the floor, you then landed onto a large chunk of broken glass. The sharp piece embedded itself deep into your knee and you cried in pain as you held your leg close to your chest. The creature dug its nails into the tile floor and started to crawl toward you with dead eyes, and bloody teeth. You took several deep breaths as you prepared to yank the glass from your leg and with one last deep inhale, you yanked it out. You cried in pain but knew that you had to keep going, your muscle burned as it now was exposed to the air. You made sure to grab your pistol from the floor before you continued on.

Your sprint was now resorted to a quick limp but you managed to make it to the locker room. To your dismay, it was mostly empty besides a couple of shotguns and some ammunition. "Fuck! Fuck! This isn't enough!" you screamed as you pounded your fist against one of the lockers. Inside one of the open lockers was a weapons bag which you were able to fill with the lackluster amount of supplies. As you zipped up the bag, the metal door to the room opened and the sound drew your attention. Your pistol was ready and you limped around the corner to hide behind a row of lockers to hide from who or whatever it was. The room was dark but a flashlight flipped around the room, whoever it was, they were there to look for those guns or you. Your thumb slowly pulled the hammer back on the weapon and rounded the corner, "Stop right there!" you yelled.

It was a man and he seemed to be normal for the most part. He complied and raised his arms in the air. "Turn around!" Again, he complied and did a slow 180. Through the faint glow of his flashlight, your eyes caught a glimpse of a set of familiar moonstone pools.

"[Y/N]?!" his voice raised in shock. The entire city was faced with an apocalypse scenario or even the whole world for all you knew and the one person you run into is Leon -- Leon Kennedy.

He dropped his arms and grabbed hold of your, then pulled you into a tight hug. Leon smelled of sweat and cologne, the very cologne that you bought for him as a graduation gift. You breathed him in as it registered to you that this was real, he was really here. But you pulled away, "Leon, we have no time for chit chat. We gotta get moving, people need these guns!" you pointed to the bag that sat on the floor by your feet. As you tried to throw it over your shoulder, you winced in pain. "Here, let me get it." Leon attempted to take it from your hand but you paused before you surrendered the precious cargo, "I can trust you with this, right?" your grip was tight on the strap, "When have you ever doubted me?" he asked with a smile, "You don't want to know that..." your grip released as you responded but also pointed the fact that your leg was injured.

"Sorry to be a liability," you apologized, but Leon pulled you to his side, "Nonsense. I got this and you, just keep an eye out for zombies."

You led Leon down the hallway that you had your close brush with death in, the zombie, as Leon called it, was now gone. But when the two of you reached the door to the office, it was eerily quiet. Not a good sign. You pushed the door open to find the office void of any life, nothing but blood. Lots and lots of blood. Your heart hurt as you felt a pain in your chest, was everyone dead? The lifeless body of Rita laid on the floor with her eyes opened, her brown orbs were absent of the vibrant life she once had.

Tears welled in your eyes but as you turned to flee, you bumped into Leon's chest. A look of horror on Leon's face matched yours, "I-I left them not even an hour ago..." you cried into his shirt for a moment as he held you lightly with one arm. When you pulled away, you wiped your eyes and Leon took your hand from your face.

"I'm happy you're alive, [Y/N]," you examined your matured features and you did his. His hair grew a little longer than when you had seen him last and he examined your frazzled locks. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a door behind Leon opened and shut. A man walked out from the shadows and into the light, it was Branagh. He held onto his side and you could see he was injured with his shirt heavily stained with what was most likely his blood.

Leon pulled his pistol out and pointed it at your superior while he had a protective hand on your arm. Branagh coughed a wheezed laugh and shooed his gun out of his face. He looked over to you and smiled, "Good to see you're still breathing, [Y/N]." The Lieutenant approached your male companion and placed a bloody hand on his shoulder,

"You must be Leon Kennedy -- well, son, welcome to Raccoon City."

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #ao3 original

165 notes · View notes

amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 26: Prove It

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: violence

SUMMARY: “Nova!” Din cries again, and you squint and try to push yourself up and out of the dirt, but you’re wounded and you’re so damn tired. You mean to just take a beat and then hurl yourself up off the ground again, but you get stormed with another hit, and you realize they’ve hit you with tranquilizers again, and it just seems so much easier to surrender. Whoever they’re working for, whoever’s after you, they can take this win as long as you get to fall into this sleep on the way there. Hazily, feeling deprived of your oxygen, you think about Din, and you weakly look up for him, where he’s fighting off the rest of the battalion that wants to spill both of your blood all over Takodana’s ground.

“Run,” you manage, weakly, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the beskar like a laser beam.

His face, still helmeted, still covered, is in front of yours, crystallized, just for a second, but it’s enough. “There’s not a fucking chance,” he says, voice convicted through the modulator, “that I am ever leaving you again.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES AND HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!! this chapter is...so much. such a wild ride. such a rollercoaster. it's 10k+ words, and almost all of it was written in a single sitting because it just would not stop coming out. my fellow happiness and fluff lovers, we are finally (close) to the other side! with that, i'll stop spoiling the chapter until you can read ;) more notes, as always, at the end!!!

You kiss him. For what feels like hours, you kiss him. He doesn’t push you more than is tongue parting your lips, the hungry way that he sinks up against you, apologetic and raw. Din knows that you’re in control. You know you’re in control. Everything has been flipped on its head, and you hate it, you hate it, you don’t want to wield power over anyone, let alone the man you love, even if he has broken your heart clean through, so when you pull away, he doesn’t follow you.

“I don’t forgive you,” you whisper again, through the silence. He sighs, but not with exasperation.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I ever will.”

Din’s quiet. You open your eyes, just a flutter of your eyelashes, really, and when you look at him, he’s not staring at you. He’s on his knees, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, like he’s asking for repentance. Or praying. Or begging, but he’s so silent in his grief it startles you. “If you don’t,” he whispers, finally, “I understand. But please don’t—”

“Leave you?” you interrupt. It’s not nearly as bitter as you thought it would be. “Don’t worry,” you continue, quieter, “that’s not my move.”

He winces. “Nova—”

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” you say, earnestly, “really, I’m not, but y—you need to know how much it hurt me. You broke my trust. You gave me family again, a real family, and then you just took it away. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. But it doesn’t matter, because you did.”

“I know,” Din manages, his eyes opening slowly and catching on yours. “I know, and I think I’ll be sorry about that forever. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, I mean that.”

Because he’s so genuine about it, so honest, it makes you want to get mad and challenge him. But there’s a peace to his penance, his atonement, and it just makes you stare.

“Even if I leave you somewhere,” you say, “you’ll follow me. Right?”

His gaze is complicated. “Yes,” he says, finally. “I’m not letting you get hurt again because of a mistake I made.”

“Din,” you start, and he holds up a gloved hand. You’re so tired. Sotired. You don’t want to fight anymore. It’s exhausting. Trying to grieve and stay angry and constantly be on the run—it’s killing you. Your shoulders ache. The scar carved in your stomach hurts late at night, and even though it’s probably phantom pain—hurting because everywhere else hurts too—that added jaggedness makes it almost unbearable. So you just let it go with the air out of your mouth, just staring at him.

“I’m tied to you,” he repeats.

“You keep saying that,” you enunciate. “What do you mean?”

“Mandalorians choose their families,” Din mutters, “I chose you. That doesn’t go away—that feeling, that tie—even in death.”

“Does it go away when you leave your fiancé in the same place that you started your life with her?” you ask, but it’s tiredly, with no daggers.

Din stares at you. There’s something hidden behind his eyes, something hungry and forlorn and deep and yours. “Not for me,” he says finally, and his gaze lingers on you for just a little too long.

But before anything, you’re saved by the bell again.

“Rebel girl,” a familiar voice floats through the comm, “come in whenever you’re ready.”

You breathe, for what feels like the first time in years, a sigh of relief. “Wedge,” you manage, slinging the helmet back on to talk to him semi-privately. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice—”

“I’ve been trying for days,” he says, and you sink back into the pilot’s seat. “Your frequency was jammed up.”

“Ran into a few Empire ships,” you say, glancing at Din, who’s standing there, half in the shadows, trying to make sense of who you’re talking to. “I got sick of them trying to radio me. Plus, I didn’t want to call you first and send any more your way. How’s the base?”

“She’s shot,” Wedge admits, voice tinny, presumably from turning away to inspect the wreckage of the structure on Hoth, “but she’s standing. No fatalities. They were more interested in you than they were with us, so they just volleyed over a bunch of blasts and then went into warp. No one was seriously hurt,” Wedge repeats, “so let out that breath you’re holding.”

You do. “I’m so glad you’re all okay,” you breathe. “Um, Wedge?” You pause, looking over at Din for a fraction of a second before you barrel on, “did—did you hear from Luke again at all?”

Wedge sighs. “No,” he says quietly. “I’m afraid, honestly. I know Luke can hold his own against a lot worse than Moff Gideon, but—”

“He’s alive, and fine,” you cut him off, all in one breath. “I didn’t see him, uh, but my fiancé did.” At this, Din turns toward you. Just slightly, almost imperceptible, but you notice. “He took my kid. Grogu. Luke took him off to teach him, I think, protect him.”

“Thank the Maker,” Wedge says. It sounds sarcastic, coming out of his mouth, but you know he’s being serious. “And you? Were you able to find your family?”

Din can’t hear the other end of your conversation, not after you put the helmet back on. “Yes,” you breathe, finally, “yeah, I did.”

“I hope you know,” Wedge says, sighing, and there’s that fatherly edge in his voice again, “that if you’re ever in a tight spot, or a bad situation, or, you know, facing up against the dregs of the Empire, I want you to call me. We’re here to help you. And I owe you a favor.”

“Well,” you say, chancing another look over at Din, who is pretending to be preoccupied with the space outside, but he keeps sneaking glances over at you, “I could cash that favor in now, if you’re willing. Do you know where the safest place in the galaxy is for a Mandalorian who can kill troopers without lifting a finger and a Force-sensitive Rebel pilot that has ticked off the rest of the surviving Empire? We need to lay low for a few days. Figure out what the next plan is.”

“Well,” Wedge sighs again, “honestly, the safest place would be with Luke.”

Your heart clenches, staring up at Din. That’s not an option, not after he had to let Grogu go, not after what he just went through. This part of his life—Grogu’s—needs to be his. “That’s not an option,” you repeat out loud, finally, closing your eyes. “Not now, at least. I’d go back to Dantooine, but I really don’t want anyone dangerous following me into the shelter I stayed at.”

“Coruscant,” he says, and you shake your head vehemently, even though he can’t see it. “Joke. Not a good one, sorry. I didn’t mean that. Does it need to be in the Outer Rim?”

“No,” you say, honestly. “Preferably, yes, but if it means no Empire thugs on our backs, we’ll go pretty much anywhere.”

Wedge is quiet. For a minute, you think that the connection just completely cut out and you’re listening to nothing, and then he breathes again. “I can give you the names of some planets. A lot of them are deserted or at least desolate enough. The others are much busier. I don’t think any planet like Dantooine, with cities in places and completely untouched in others, is safe right now. You need to either blend in completely or stay out of sight at all. At least for a few weeks, you need to stay quiet and lay low.”

“I thought,” you manage, your voice lower, “that with Gideon preoccupied, the threats would stop. Not stop, maybe—that seems foolish to assume when it comes to me—but at least that people would slow down. Stop chasing me.”

Wedge sighs. “You’re good,” he says, simply. “Too good. And I mean that as a compliment, as in you won’t kill people unless it’s in self-defense, and I also mean it in the way you run instead of attacking. You play the offensive when everyone’s expecting you not to. You’re kind and you’re giving and even if you didn’t have a target on your back, they’d be looking to exploit you. From Luke’s message…” he trails off and sighs again, and a shadow obscures your vision, and you look up at Din, silently standing over you, “it seems like there’s more danger than we bargained for. You just might be at the center of it.”

You close your eyes, rubbing them until you see stars. You’re so tired. Again, all of the exhaustion in the galaxy seems to be hanging even heavier on your shoulders, and you have to press down on the knots with your thumbs to get them to budge even a little bit. “I’m tired,” you admit, out loud. Din bends down, and you kick your chair to spin a bit away from him. “But don’t you—or the rest of the Alliance—dare to step in now. I can handle Gideon’s men, and I can handle the other troopers. You all need to stay safe and strategize. I’ll call you from whatever planet we end up on next, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“You,” Wedge says, “are wise beyond your years, rebel girl.”

You sigh, finally looking up at Din. His helmet’s still off, and it’s nearly impossible for you to tear your eyes away from his heartbreakingly handsome face. “I know. Tell me if Luke says anything, and stay safe.”

“The planets,” Wedge interjects softly. You had completely forgotten you had asked for them at all. Your breath catches in your throat. “Malastare, maybe. Naator, which is largely a peaceful planet—”

“I’ve been there,” you interrupt, your heart aching for Naator’s serenity, the hope and love it gave you. It feels like a lifetime ago. “Anywhere else?”

“Wasskah,” Wedge answers, finally. “It’s completely remote these days. One of our pilots flew out there a few weeks ago, and reported no signs of life except for animals. If you want deserted, there’s your answer. I know you aren’t itching to return to Coruscant, especially considering how easy it was to be spotted the last time you were back there, but somewhere busy and metropolitan might be the place to go.”

Your heart sinks. None of these sound like very viable options, due to Din’s past and your own emotional connections to them, but you don’t want to tell Wedge that he’s been unhelpful. Saying a quick gratitude seems like the nicest way to exit the conversation, and it’s just starting to bubble up on your tongue when Wedge speaks again.

“I’ve heard,” he says, and his voice sounds distant. Not like he’s moved away from the microphone of the comm, but like he’s lost somewhere in a memory, “about Takodana. From Luke, and just through the grapevine. It’s supposed to be a refuge, almost, and there’s people from all over. Most seem to be runaways or like they’re trying to start a new life, so I don’t think anyone will pay you excessive mind if you don’t look too long at them either.”

You breathe a massive sigh of relief. “Thank you, Wedge. That’s perfect. We’ll head there. Thank you, seriously,” you repeat, looking up at Din. He’s turned away from you, staring at the space around you. You swallow. “Stay safe, please. And don’t you dare rush into battle without me.”

Wedge’s laugh crackles around the comm. “Take it easy, rebel girl. I mean it.” And then he’s gone.

You turn back, slightly, looking at Din. “Wedge—my friend—he suggested we head to Takodana. It’s supposed to be a safe place for refugees, and no one will look twice at us.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Hey,” you say, a little louder, the toe of your boot knocking into the beskar. “We have a safe place to go.”

“I’m going to put you in danger,” Din says, lowly, “you’re right about that, too.”

You sigh. “I’m the danger. Remember? I’m the one the Empire dregs are after, not you. You’re gonna follow me anyway,” you say, but it comes out softer around the edges than you intended, “might as well save on fuel and travel in Kicker.”

Din cocks his head. It looks silly without his helmet, and even more endearing. Your heart clenches. “Kicker?”

You smile, something small and in the shape of a half-moon. “Kicker, yeah, my ship. She doesn’t like to do anything unless you pound on the dashboard, especially with a swift kick. She’s a rebel, like me.”

Din stares at you, like he’s struggling to find the words. “I—how did you get her?”

You stare back. “You left me, I went to Hoth, Wedge gave me the ship. I earned her, really, with maintenance and rewiring and anything else they needed, and she was too much of a junker for anyone to seriously use her. But I made her fly, and they let me keep her.”

Din looks across the expanse of the cockpit. It’s not like the Crest was. There isn’t as much liminal space in the windows, the starship skinnier and longer rather than deeper and wider, and you’ve filled this place up with so much warmth. You picked up a string of lights back on one of the planets you passed through, and you’ve hung them up. The blankets are a mixture of the ones you picked up from the base on Hoth, old clothes you’ve nested, and the one that Din wrapped up for you on Yavin. His eyes catch on that one especially, and you try not to internalize it. “You hate being a mechanic,” he says, his voice quiet.

Despite everything, you laugh. “True,” you offer, looking over the complicated dashboard. “I’d choose to do pretty much anything over trying to fix something. But it turns out, I’m actually kind of good at it. Who knew?”

A small smile spreads across his face. “I—fuck, Nova, I missed you.”

It’s out so fast that you don’t know how to react. You want to make him work for it, but again, you’re so tired. You blink, and then admit it. “I missed you, too.”

The moment lingers. It’s not interrupted like it has been before, no one immediately showing up on your trail. It lasts for a few seconds too long, and you’re afraid you might just give in if this lasts for much longer, and then Kicker, the strange savior she is, starts bleeping.

“Damn it,” you sigh, poring over the dashboard. “What’s wrong now? You have fuel, we haven’t had to use the blasters recently, we’re not nearing any ships—” you get caught off guard when she screams even louder, a long, high-pitched shriek, and then, like it’s simply time, she stops. You stare, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “Okay, Kick,” you mutter, “fair play.”

Din looks at you. “Do we need to…do anything?”

You stare out at the open expanse of space. It doesn’t seem crushing anymore, volatile, hungry, You’ve forgotten how it felt to have someone out here in the blinking blackness with you, how less lonely it makes you feel. You swallow. “No,” you manage, faintly. “She’ll scream like that sometimes. If something major happens, we’ll know.”

Din seems to be satisfied with that answer. He makes his way back to the copilot’s chair, relegated to your usual spot. The role reversal doesn’t feel strange anymore—you in charge of the starship, of your destination, of your relationship—but the complete flip-flopping of it makes a tiny smile break across your face. You don’t know exactly where Takodana is, but you know how to get close, so you punch in the coordinates for the Mid Rim and slowly slide Kicker into warp. It’s quiet out here, just the slight shaking of the ship’s faulty stabilizer, and the way that space sounds when you’re hurtling through it, and you fold yourself up on your chair, perching. This has always been your favorite part—well, second favorite, after getting out of a blaster fight up here completely unscathed—just focusing on the space and the way it bends and pushes you through it, like it’s meant for you. Like you belong here.

Din doesn’t say anything. You can feel his gaze on the back of your head, where half of your hair is hanging out of your braid and dancing around your face. His want to push it behind your ears is kinetic, something you can sense all the way back here.

“What?” you ask finally, your voice low and quiet.

“Nothing,” Din murmurs back. You don’t dare to turn around. It’s agonizing, but you don’t. You just sit there, eyes focused on the weird blueness of warp, trying to predict what Din’s going to say before he speaks again, because, at this point, you know that regardless of him being a man of few words, he has more to speak. “I just—it’s nothing.”

And somehow, you know. “You miss him.” Your voice is small. Din sighs, in the acknowledging way that he does, and you know he’s talking about Grogu. “I do too,” you say, voice still quiet. “A lot. So much. Did he…did he seem happy? Going off with Luke? Like it’s what he wanted?”

Din’s quiet. You exhale through your nose, biting down on your lip to steel yourself, and then you swivel around in the pilot’s chair. He’s staring at you, a slight hunch in his shoulders. He looks smaller, more unsure. Even fully dressed in his beskar, save for his helmet, he looks defeated. You try not to let your eyes roam, but you can’t help yourself. He’s hunched over, like he’s wounded. He is. You are. It’s exhausting, feeling this way, being so close and still so alienated. You want to forgive him, especially when he looks like this, but there’s some small, bleeding part of you that can’t let the feeling he gave when he left you—heartbreak, betrayal—go. It lives on, hungry, even when every other cell in your body is screaming at you to forgive him, to go over, to press your lips to his and let it roam.

But you don’t. You can’t. It feels immovable, so you just sit, aching, in the silence.

“I think,” Din says, finally, his words slow, like he’s choosing them very carefully, “that he needed to go. I don’t know if he wanted to; he was miserable after we—I—left you on Dantooine, and when he got stolen, the look in his eyes when I saved him just…” Din fades out, quiets. “He wanted to be home. With me. With you. But when Luke showed up, something shifted. I can’t talk to the kid—Grogu—like you can. But I know him, and I know he knew this was what he was waiting for.”

You swallow, around tears. “Did—did Luke have anyone else with him?”

“His droid,” Din offers, jaw clenching. “And he mentioned something in passing about Grogu not being the only kid he was training, but that was it.”

“Wedge,” you start, staring at your cuticles, “think that with Luke is the only safe place. Especially me, since I’m Force sensitive , and it seems like every menacing person in this galaxy is after me. I don’t know why. Did—when you spoke to Gideon, did he say why they wanted Grogu?”

Din shakes his head. “Cara and I,” he says, finally, “we—we had to go through some unsavory means to find out where Gideon even was. One of their scientists says they needed something from the kid, something in his blood. I—microbes, or something? It started with an M. I stopped listening when he told me they wanted to harvest something from Grogu, because I just wanted to shoot and drop him on the spot.”

“Midichlorians,” you say, voice distant. “That’s what they wanted to harvest.”

Din startles. “That’s it,” he says, and your eyes focus on the hairs that make up his mustache, how groomed they are, how much stock he took in trying to make himself presentable before he found you on Tatooine, without his helmet, without anything. “How do you know that?”

“I…don’t know,” you answer finally, your tone still faraway. “I just do, somehow, that he has them. Anyone with the Force has them, I—I guess. I’m not sure if it’s something that can be harvested, but if that’s what they were after, that’s why Gideon didn’t care if he took me or Grogu.”

Din sighs, low and heavy. “Nova, I—”

“Why?” you interrupt, fingers flailing around your neck, closing around nothing.

“Why what?”

“Why did they want the midichlorians?” you say instead. “Were they for Gideon? Were they for—for someone else?”

Din squints, as if he’s trying to remember. “I don’t think they were for Gideon,” he says, voice low, strange, strained. “But I—I have no idea. The dark troopers they have now, they’re indestructible. It’s insane. One alone nearly pulverized me. Until the Jedi—Luke—showed up, we were all lost. Something is coming, Nova,” he interrupts himself, “something big and dark. I didn’t realize it before, when Gideon was just after us, but I see it now. They’re gearing up for something big.”

“Yeah,” you say, sliding your thumbnail between your teeth, “yeah, I came to that same conclusion when I was on Dantooine.”

Din’s gaze finds his gloved hands, and then, without warning, he starts yanking them off. “I need you to know—” he starts, and then Kicker throws you out of warp. It takes a few seconds for you to find your bearings, to turn yourself right side up, and when you’ve gotten the ship under control, Din’s mouth is closed, and your heart is hammering with the possibility of what it could have been, but you’re too afraid to ask. You throw your focus entirely into calibrating the dashboard, making sure that Takodana is set in the ship’s nav system. For a while, that’s all you do, until you slowly breach the atmosphere, turning your radio on in case you have to signify that you’re arriving, a refugee, as a friendly person and not an enemy. No calls come in, but you coast slowly, glancing around at the ground. There’s a forest, but when you pull out of it, you see a giant lake and a town that looks like it’s functional as more of a city, everything slapped together with random materials, rooms and whole buildings built on the backs of others. It gives you that same eclectic feeling that Dantooine did, and the same sense of community that Naator gave you. You swallow, roughly, past the lump in your throat, and head to the other side for a landing strip, anywhere you can park Kicker out of the way.

Once you’re docked, in a landing bay just as strangely populated as Takodana’s main metropolitan area, you swaddle yourself up in a cloak and the lightweight trousers you got back planets ago, a light tank top over the top, blaster strapped to your thigh. Everything you’re dressed in is simple, inconspicuous. You tuck your hair back behind your ears before you pull the large swath of fabric up over your head, trying to look as unrecognizable as possible. Your fresher is small and doesn’t have the best mirror, so you just try your best to look as normal and unnoticeable as you can.

Din, on the other hand, looks even more conspicuous without his helmet on. You look at him, watching carefully, as he climbs down the ladder and heads towards the gangplank.

“Wait,” you say, softly, grabbing his helmet off the floor. “Wear this, Din. Please.”

It’s the first time you haven’t said his name in anger, so he whips back around and stares at you.

“I can’t,” he repeats, voice troubled. “I—I took it off,”

“On Tatooine,” you remind him, emphasizing the planet’s name, “to a nearly empty cantina in the dark.”

“Not just on Tatooine,” Din says darkly. “When we were trying to save Grogu, we went undercover to Morak, trying to track down Gideon’s whereabouts. I was accompanied by…someone I used to work with. I had to take the helmet off to log into the system, because it required a face scan. Mayfeld—the accomplice—saw it, and so did everyone else in the mess hall before it ended in the shootout.”

“Did—Mayfeld—did he say he was going to blast your face anywhere?”

Din shakes his head. “No. He told me he’d forget all about it.”

“And I’m assuming,” you continue, shifting your weight back on your other leg, so you can put more emphasis on holding the helmet in the air, “that everyone else who saw you died in the shootout. Right? So that’s what, five people, maybe?”

“No,” Din says again. “I—I had to take it off for the kid, to show him my face. Before I left him, I wanted to give him a way to recognize me in the future. So the Jedi saw it, and Cara, and Bo-Katan, and Koska, and Fennec, and Gideon—”

“Bo-Katan,” you say evenly, “is the ruler of Mandalore, and she shows her face all the time.”

“About that—”

“Listen,” you cut in, sighing, wriggling the helmet at him to catch his eyes, “I know your Way is different. But that wasn’t the first time you broke the Creed. You broke it for me first,” you remind him, raising your eyebrow. “You broke it for me first, and you put it back on after. You can wear it again, Din,” you tack on softly, your gaze traveling over his face like you’re hungry, before you can control yourself.

He just looks at you, and then, right when you’re working up a big speech, he takes it out of your hands and slides it over his head. You feel him hesitate, but the second the helmet hisses back into place, you see his stature change, see the way he carries himself, assured and strong. You nod, pulling your makeshift hood up over your own head, and when the first blast of pleasant air hits you, you breathe a sigh of relief.

In the last month—since you were abandoned by your family and chased across the galaxy by anyone willing to hurt you—you haven’t let your guard drop, not once. You were reckless, and a little careless, but you got so frightened of being found, of being discovered, that you’ve been on the run, subconsciously and consciously. But now, on this planet, with Din back by your side, you feel like you can exhale. Not much—your breath still catches horribly in your chest—but enough to not constantly have your thumb on your blaster, your head whipping around to check behind you.

It feels like it did before. In this one small way, if nothing else.

You walk. Din walks. Neither of you say very much to each other, just trying to move as quickly as you can to the town center, casting glances sideways at the people you pass to ensure they aren’t calling after you, or mentally putting the bounty back on your head. Almost no one even acknowledges you, and the people that do give you small smiles before they tuck their heads back on, clearly as anxious to stay unnoticed as you are.

Finally, you arrive on the steps of a giant building that you assume is the cantina. When you walk through the heavy doors, it is indeed in part a cantina, but it also looks like a restaurant, a safe haven, a store, like all of these things are halved and then stitched together. The band is playing a lively tune—more jazzy and jangly than the ones in the cantina on Tatooine—and people are constantly roaming. You find a small table tucked off to the side, and lead Din over there. It’s secluded, and you shift so he can have his back to the bench, his gaze to the room, like always. You don’t even realize you’ve done it until he relaxes, just slightly, and you hide your smile in the palm of your hand over your mouth, gazing out at the people.

There are more aliens than there are humans, species from all over the galaxy, some you’ve never seen before, others you’ve never even heard of. They’re captivating, loud, entertaining. You feel like you could spend weeks in this exact spot and not get bored. Eventually, a server droid comes over and you order a small dish of porridge and the biggest pitcher of water they offer. Din declines anything, but you make him order water, too, and then the droid is gone, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I should find us shelter,” Din says lowly, “a place to stay.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I just figured we’d stay in Kicker,” you say, happily accepting the water the droid brings. “The small fee that the docking station has would be less than any housing we find here, and I have plenty of blankets.”

Din stares at you. Even under the helmet, you can tell. “I have credits,” he whispers, quiet enough that you have to strain to understand what he’s saying underneath the modulator. “We can—stay at a hotel, or something, an inn—”

You blink at him. “One bed or two?”

He balks at you, cocking his head. “Well—”

“I’m messing with you,” you say, grin spreading across your face before you can stop yourself. “No shared bed until I forgive you.”

“Ah,” Din manages, and you can tell you’ve ruffled him. You let the smile linger on your face as he leans back, away from the closeness. “So there’s hope for forgiveness?”

“I never said that,” you answer, diplomatically, looking back over at the crowd, but you have to force your tongue to stop curling into the word yes.

Days pass. A handful, three, or five, but you’re not sure. Din still sleeps downstairs, and you stay snuggled up in your nest of blankets, telling yourself why you can’t go down there, why you’re holding your resolve. Conversation comes easier. Sometimes, you go out walking by your own, and from the best of your ability, you can’t catch him tracking you. Takodana is beautiful—green and lush, and the lake stretches on forever. You go in up to your thighs one night, the water cold but refreshing, and if you close your eyes to a squint, you can pretend you’re on Yavin.

The cantina stays loud and busy, and the people here are kind. Most keep to themselves, but the mingling conversations at meals gives you that social interaction that being on base did, and even though you’re not actively being a Rebel right now, you can feel the energy. Din talks to you, you talk to Din. You find out that the owner of the cantina—town hall, center, whatever it is—is tiny. She’s named Maz, and she sees through everyone’s bullshit. You hear men three times her size try to lie about their gambling or their spending, and she calls them out every time. Her eyes—small but hugely magnified by her glasses—are knowing, wise. Older than you think she is, but you can’t exactly figure out what age she might be. She’s only looked at you a few times, but when she does, you feel her gaze see through some veil you didn’t even realize was there.

One night, you take your food to go sit by the lake. Din follows, at a distance, but you sigh and beckon him to sit with you. There’s a large boulder, and he sits there, facing you, to quickly scarf down his food before anyone can come by, even though it seems like he’s more lenient with who can see him these days. You sit there with him, quiet but strangely comfortable, even after everything. When the sun slips over the horizon, you stand, suggesting a walk through the woods close to where the treeline is. Din doesn’t follow you, so you go alone, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk away. You try not to think of it as metaphorical.

It’s peaceful, serene. On Takodana, the sun takes a while to set. The planet isn’t huge, but it’s not tiny, either, and you know there’s likely more to it than what you’re seeing, especially since Wedge recommended it. The greenery is everywhere, like it was on Kashyyyk, but it’s much less forest than it is a light cover of trees, and you can see through the gaps of the leaves towards other small towns clustered around the major metropolis. It’s not desolate, and it’s not the city build like the one on Coruscant. You walk, your legs aching a little under the rocks and hills, but you’re not in a hurry to really get anywhere, and for once, you’re not running from something. There’s a darker grove of trees up on top of this small mound, so you crack your neck and breathe through your mouth and start to climb it.

Almost immediately, you feel it. It’s the same exact sense of fear and foreboding that encircled you, white and freezing, on Dagobah. That same kind of dark, sacred energy, the feeling of something horrible happening here. Maybe in the past, maybe in the future—you can’t tell. It’s hazy and slick and heavy, and you want to get down the hill, to run back towards where the light is still coasting over the horizon, to find Din, but you can’t. It’s like your legs are frozen in place, like everything you are right now is simply frozen. You try to yell, and it comes out horrible and strangled, and before you can stop it, you’re hurled straight into a vision.

It’s dark. So dark, and then there’s the ignition of a lightsaber blade. You try to pull yourself away from it, unnoticed, but then the tall, dark figure in a mask much more foreboding then Din’s lunges at you. Evil, you think, skittering backwards, watching as the saber lights red and dangerous, flame coming out both sides at the hilt. You hate it. You hate him. It’s a weird feeling, something dangerous and scary in the pit of your stomach, because you don’t know who it is. Who this is. And it’s not a hatred or a fear you feel now, either—it’s something you know you’ll feel later. Which means whatever—whoever—this is, they’re not here yet.

But it’s still terrifying. His voice is loud and booming, full with venom. He’s menacing and scary and big, and he lunges at you again, and when you roll away, the vision changes. It’s not the tall, dark figure anymore—it’s Grogu. It’s Grogu with Luke, and it’s so vivid you can reach out and almost touch him, and then another child moves forward. His ears protrude out from under a mop of black, dark hair, and even though he’s alongside Grogu, giggling and laughing with Luke, there’s something off about his energy. You can feel it. Grogu can feel it too, you can just tell, and you’d be willing to bet the few credits you have that Luke, alongside the two of you, notices it too.

The vision changes again. It’s you, and Din, and you’re in a building. It’s not anywhere you’ve ever been, you don’t think, but it seems strikingly familiar. All the terror, the white and hot kind of panic you felt a second ago, is gone. There’s something fearful in the pit of your stomach, still, but you look over at him, and something quiets. “Are you sure?” he asks, and it’s low, and his voice doesn’t seem like it’s coming from him, like there’s something in the way of you being able to really see him, and you feel yourself nodding. It feels like something in you is unhinging, releasing, being wiped clean. Then, out of nowhere, you’re being hurtled out of the vision, and you roll off to the side, legs kicking wildly until you find solid ground, like everything has been knocked clean out of you, the air, your breath, everything. You scraped your ankle on one of the rocks, but you’re otherwise unscathed, so you take a few huge breaths to replace the rest of the lost air in your lungs, trying to get back to baseline.

You still feel it, how dangerous and awful the energy is, even after being hauled out of your vision. You shiver, just a little, and then slowly start making your way back to camp, trying to figure if you should check the landing bay for Kicker first before you make your way all the way back to the lake, but you hear shouting—loud and violent enough to somehow know it isn’t from the overspill of people in the canina—and your fight-or-flight kicks in, and you’re running. This time, though, you’re running towards the fight instead of away from it, and when you get close enough, you spot the troopers.

They’re wearing that slightly altered armor, like the ones back on Ryloth, and that alone makes your blood seep cold through your veins. This time, you need to strategize. That tranquilizing dart was no joke, and if you’re not careful, you have no doubts that they’ll try to knock you out again. Usually, stormtroopers are terrible shots—these ones, though, these seem ruthless and calculated, and you’re good at evading, and they got you anyway.

You crouch behind a few buildings, eyes chained to where the battle is. You’re tired. Of everything—arguing with Din, keeping people an arm’s length away, trying to make sure that you stay alive at all seconds because there’s a permanent target on your back—but especially from this. Fighting. You close your eyes for a second, trying to let everything run out of you backwards, the molecules that make up your body rising and rushing. You aren’t intending for this to simply be the Force talking, but you feel it swirl up inside you, tangible and real even in its fluidity. In the flash right before you feel fortified enough to go out and start fighting, you see something. Yavin. It’s Yavin. Not the Yavin you just visited a few months back, not the Yavin that greeted you with its greenness and desolation when you were there, but the Yavin it was. Simultaneously, you see yourself flying in the X-wings, hopping across the stone plates in between the grassy knolls, hurtling underwater on the sandy beach, opening your eyes to the current, and, right before it ends, you see your parents’ faces.

And you are every bit their daughter, so you do what you have to, and when your eyes open to the scene again, you’re fighting.

The troopers are clad in white, but their armor seems to be more streamlined. You take down the first few with your mind instead of a weapon, targeting the ones on the edges so that anyone in the thick of it isn’t aware of the ones that are dropping like flies. In and out, you dart, trying to be quick and efficient, jumping from shadow to shadow to stay hidden. You’re not the best at this part, the precision it takes to be undetected and ruthless, but the makeshift hood you have draped over the upper half of your body helps, all the fabric you’re wearing loosely fitted and easy to contort yourself in. You take breathers as you pull troopers to the ground, kicking up a spray of the dusty, red earth to obscure the people you’re dropping, and then disappearing back into the night until the battle rises up against you again.

It’s not like doing barrel rolls in Kicker, and it’s not like faking out TIE fighters in space, but you’re getting the hang of it. You’re faster and more intentional with every one you pull down with the Force, reserving stunner blasts only for when you know you’re about to be spotted.

And then you see him. In the middle of the skirmish, as always, is the glint of Mandalorian beskar. You sigh, allowing yourself to rest for a split second, just watching as Din takes down troopers with his bullets and blasts, no mercy, no mourning. He’s outnumbered twenty to one, and it’s like he has a fully-fledged army in that suit of armor. You’d bet, under the helmet, he’s not even breaking a sweat. And somehow, despite it all, despite everything, you smile. This isn’t the man that left you on Dantooine. This isn’t the man who doesn’t know how to apologize for breaking your heart because his own is just as fractured. This is the man who rescued you on Nevarro, the man who put gunshots into every thug who’s touched you without your consent, the man who calls you the purest thing in the galaxy right before dropping anyone who tries to corrupt you, the man who broke every single one of his rules for you.

So you do what you do best. You make momentary peace with all your hurt, all your grudges, and you run. You run into the flames, into the intensity, making your presence known. And instead of running away, you stand in the heart of the circle, and you challenge the troopers to come at you instead.

Din’s yelling at you to get back, the troopers are attacking you with double the force they were expelling on him, but everything in your mind is vivid and clear. You take down a handful of them with a nod of your head, the glint of intent in your eyes. Finally, the troopers on the very edges of the battle are starting to wake up, so you dive under the legs of others and shoot your blaster to stun. The girl whose hand shakes when holding a gun is long gone. You’re intentioned, measured. You’re barely even exerting any energy, because they’re doing it all for you. All you need to do is evade, to tuck and roll, and you’re so good at playing the offensive that when you have the high ground, no one is expecting it.

“Nova,” Din calls, and you somersault towards him so the two of you can battle back-to-back with the more ferocious troopers that are still standing. You tuck and roll and lose your hood, but you don’t need to be incognito anymore. Your name means to shine. So you do.

For a second—a fleeting, glittering second—the two of you have dropped an entire regiment. You look over your shoulder, just for a moment, and you can tell you meet Din’s brown eyes underneath his visor, and something in you quiets. There’s no uneven ground right now, there’s no tallies. It’s just the two of you doing what you’ve always done best—protecting each other in the heat of the moment, communicating through knowledge alone.

And then the second ship comes in. The second regiment, the relief, they’re more hardened and even more bloodthirsty. You feel your weight in your knees when you stagger forward, thumbing your blaster in one hand, holding out your palm of your other one, dominant and resolute. It’s harder, this fight, because the twenty-five new soldiers are even more ruthless. You get shot. Once, and then twice, and they’re both flesh wounds, but they’re on both of your arms, so your dexterity is broken, beaten down. You fall to the dust, once, then twice.

“Nova!” Din cries again, and you squint and try to push yourself up and out of the dirt, but you’re wounded and you’re so damn tired. You mean to just take a beat and then hurl yourself up off the ground again, but you get stormed with another hit, and you realize they’ve hit you with tranquilizers again, and it just seems so much easier to surrender. Whoever they’re working for, whoever’s after you, they can take this win as long as you get to fall into this sleep on the way there. Hazily, feeling deprived of your oxygen, you think about Din, and you weakly look up for him, where he’s fighting off the rest of the battalion that wants to spill both of your blood all over Takodana’s ground.

“Run,” you manage, weakly, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the beskar like a laser beam.

You want to protest, want him to get out of there safely, want to tell him that okay, yeah, you’re going back on your word, but you forgive him, because if you’re going to be dragged away by some sort of evil entity even worse than Moff Gideon, you want your big bad bounty hunter boyfriend to come after you and slaughter anyone who lays a finger on you, but you can’t get your mouth to move.

Din’s helmeted face bobs down again, and you open your eyes to the visor. You’re horizontal, and so is he, and then he’s pressing his face against your forehead, just like he always did, in absence of his mouth on yours, of an apology, of a saving grace.

“I—” he starts, and then he’s up and fighting again, and you can’t tell if you blacked out or not, but your body is getting kicked and prodded, and you feel like you’re being lifted into the air, but you can’t tell, everything is swimming, unfamiliar hands all over you, and one trooper’s hand curls around your neck, the other one tangled in your braid, forcing your head backwards. You’re thrown back down on the ground, knees slamming into the dust, and when they try to get you to look upward, you train your vision on the stars instead.

This isn’t how you thought it was end. You register all the weapons in the vicinity slowly be trained on you and Din, who’s also held hostage by the other troopers, and when you focus your eyes past him, you see the open gateway to the hills everywhere, and you realize, somehow, when everyone’s attention was on you, Din let everyone in the town escape. You’d be willing to bet not a single one of them were harmed, because his big body of beskar intervened and obliterated every single menace.

And you love him. Maker, you love him, and the thought alone makes something tangible and horrible bubble up behind your eyes. You’re so angry at him, still so exhausted, still so hurt, but you’re either about to have your throat slit by stormtroopers or be forcibly taken to someone who wants to break you limb from limb and drain your blood for your Force sensitivity, so you need to say it. You need to tell Din you love him, even if you don’t forgive him yet.

“It would be merciful to kill you right here,” the trooper in front of you croons. Your vision is still blurry from the tranquilizer and the grip he has on your throat, but you set your jaw and put as much menace in your eyes as you possibly can. “But you’ve made this very hard on us, and I want to drag it out until our master gets to have his way with you.”

He says your real name, the one on the bounty puck, and you grin. “What?” he growls, and you spit blood out of your mouth, look up at the full moon, and suddenly, you’re fortified. Your eyes close, and this time, you don’t see your parents. You don’t see your life flashing in front of you. You see Luke Skywalker taking down the dark troopers. You see yourself holding off Moff Gideon with your own two hands.

And then you see Din with the Darksaber.

It’s a catalyst. And, still, everything suddenly clicks into place. Din wasn’t holding a higher frequency vibroblade way back on Ryloth when he found you. His helmet was off, showing his face to everyone. That’s what he meant when you first landed, here, why he started to tell you about Bo-Katan.

“Before you torture me and send me off to whoever your boss is,” you say, strained, every atom in your body summoning the Darksaber to fly out of Din’s restrained hand and into yours, “you should really make the effort to get my name right.”

“Stun her,” the trooper in front of you spits at the one with his hand tangled in your braid, and you take the moment to square your shoulders, flex your wrist.

“My name,” you whisper, “is Novalise Djarin. And I’m not scared of you, or the darkness you bring.”

The trooper in front of you grabs your throat again, dragging you upwards. Din is yelling in the background, and you can see him struggling against the six men that are trying to contain him, but you close your eyes and call for the saber, silently and clearly.

And the second you’re upright, it does. It flies through the air, metal and wicked, and when it lands in your hand, you ignite the blade. It goes through your cuffs first, then into the arm of the man who’s holding your hair. It’s sudden and violent, and you’re unrestrained as you drop him. The one in front of you is still holding your throat, and you want to drive the blade right into his heart, but you stomp on his foot and send him howling to the ground as you move the saber around, slicing at limbs and fingers and shins, the dangerous flicker of the blade powerful and right in your hands. You don’t kill a single one of them, even though you want to, because Wedge was right. You’re too good to end someone’s life when you can make them regret laying a finger on you for the rest of your days. And because Din was right, too—you are the purest thing in the galaxy. And all the men with their blades and their threats and their fists fight with the darkness that you’ve never let touch you.

Once all of the other troopers are wounded on the ground, you drag the one who threaten you, who closed his hand around your throat, up against the building. You pin him there with the Force alone, and you look in his eyes as he’s choking for the air you’re depriving him of. “You tell your boss,” you say, evenly, calmly, even though the exhaustion is pulling you down, even though the corners of your eyes are still blurred and deprived of oxygen, “that the next time he wants me, he can come after me his own damn self.”

With that, you release him. You stride over to Din, pulling him off the ground with one hand, heart hammering, breath heavy and thick in your throat, your lungs, and you observe the fifty men the two of you dropped.

“Also,” you call out, just to anyone who’s listening, because you’ve earned your right to leave them with something shiny and intentional after they tried to drown out your spark, “my name means light. Think of that the next time when you try to come for me after dark.” You drag Din to his feet, and you’re not even sure if any of the troopers are conscious after you sliced through sinew and bone, but you’re pretty damn proud of yourself. In the window the cantina, you see Maz Kenata, who didn’t flee alongside the rest of her town. Her eyes, magnified by the ginormous inspecting glasses she wears, are trained on you. You smile, saluting her, and she returns it. It feels huge, something cosmic, but she turns away in the silence as you’re trying to catch your breath.

Din slips out of your grasp. You’re still observing the scene, and you pour out the rest of your water canteen on the small fires that are still burning in the wind as you feel him head towards the ground, but he’s not passing out. He falls to his knees, the same position he was in when he pulled his helmet off back on Yavin, and before you realize what’s happening, his fingers are under the rim of the helmet, and he pulls it clean off.

Your breath—just finally replenished—drops away again.

“What are you doing—” you start, and then he yanks off his gloves again, just like he did back on Kicker, and every word that was on the tip of your tongue evaporates into the thin air.

“Let me prove it,” Din says, low and urgent.

You stare at him. “Prove what?”

“Prove that I’ll never leave you again,” he says, and you blink, trying to search for any kind of insincerity in his voice, his face, his words. There isn’t any. “Novalise, I love you.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence.

“I love you,” Din interrupts, his voice low and clear. “I’m not just saying that. I love you. I’m in love with you. I—Nova, you told me to wait to tell you until you saved me, but you’ve saved me every single day. Even when I didn’t deserve it. I should have told you ages ago. I love you.”

You’re sure no one’s listening, so you say his real name. “Din—”

“I love you,” he repeats, his grip tightening on yours, and you fall to your knees in front of him, grinning despite it all, and you press your forehead into his. “I love you, and I’m never leaving you again.”

“I still don’t forgive you,” you say, “but I want you to prove it. All of it. And I have conditions.”

Din nods. “Anything.”

“First—” you start, but then a trooper screams and rises up with a giant gun in his hand, and Din pulls his helmet back on, lunging in front of you. The beskar absorbs the blow, but he’s out of every weapon, so you spin forward, pulling the Darksaber out of your belt and running towards the trooper, slicing his blaster clean in half. When you make it back to Din, he’s on his feet, and the two of you run towards Kicker as the rest of the battalion starts waking up, injured, wounded, hurt, but still determined. You push her into warp as quick as you can, racking your brain for where the hell some semblance of safety is on this galaxy, but you just go and go and go until you’re far enough away from Takodana, far enough away from the people that just tried—and nearly succeeded—to kill you. You sit in the chair, exhausted until Din drags you onto the floor as gently as he can, with alcohol and bacta patches at the ready, and you let him clean and bandage you up, both of you wordless, both of you thinking everything. Your heart aches in your chest, with that cosmic connection, with something more, with everything you’ve missed the last months. You’re breathing again, even with your lungs this depleted.

“Novay’lain,” Din says, breaking through the quiet, “It’s Mando’a.”

You startle, so used to your shared silence, looking over at him. You can’t get over seeing his face in the light, the contours of it, the bump in his nose, his glorious cheeks. Everything about him—it looks exactly like how you remembered him, how you missed him, the man you love. “What?” Your voice comes out cracked, half silent.

“You were right,” Din whispers, voice hollow. “You told the truth back there. The word, unconjugated, means to shine.”

You swallow. “Why didn’t you—?”

“I didn’t know,” Din interrupts, and you swing your whole body around to face him, “I only know fragments of the language, Nova, enough to recognize the speech.”

You stare at him, messy hair hanging in your eyes. Everything around you is blurry and unfocused. All you can see is him, his gorgeous face, the lines written all over it. You don’t have it in you to be mad anymore. You haven’t had it in you since when he first left. All you want to do is hold him, to rush back into his arms and forgive him. It hurts. It still aches, pulses somewhere down deep and brutal, knowing he proposed to you, he showed his face to you, and then he left you. And you know it wasn’t what he wanted, that it tore him apart to do it, but you don’t forget that kind of pain, and it’s still such a beacon inside you. “What does Novalise mean?” you ask, voice quiet, echoing his question back on the Crest, back before he showed you the place he used to call home.

“To radiate,” Din breathes, and you cock your head at him, slowly moving through the momentum to press yourself up against the wall he’s leaned on, enough to reach out and touch him if you wanted to, “to shine in silence.” It’s a mirror image to where you sat together back on the Crest, but this time it’s different. It’s yours. You have all the power here, and all you can do is stare.

“I was right?”

He looks right at you, those dazzling brown eyes, and you feel your heart strike you straight through. “You were always right. About everything.”

“Din—”

“I can’t give you anything,” he interrupts. “I can’t—I’ve shown my face to people, I’ve lost the kid, the Crest, you.” His face looks so much more sheltered here than it was when he showed up maskless on Tatooine, unsure and turbulent with being exposed to the light. “You tried to warn me about it, all of it, and I didn’t listen. And—I thought I’d felt loss before,” Din whispers, and you try your best to not let the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes fall down your face, “but when I lost you and I lost the baby in one massive, ridiculous fuckup, that was worse. Than anything. I mean it, Nova, whatever your conditions are for me to prove that I’ll never leave you again, I’ll abide by them. I’ll do anything for you.”

You swallow, trying to close the gap between you two, but he lifts up a gloved hand, palm flat against your chest. You feel the absence of where your mother’s necklace used to be, and you close your eyes against his resistance.

“I don’t deserve you,” he repeats, guttural. There’s no light behind his eyes. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t—”

“It’s not about deserving,” you whisper, ignoring the way his hands fall dead and flat you. “I lied. I—it’s not about being right, and it’s not about deserving.” He shakes his head at against you. “When did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed into a ridge in the middle of your forehead, “when did you know when you loved me?”

“When you told me your name,” Din says, voice still so fucked and hollowed out.

“My name is Mando’a, Din,” you say, the timbre of your voice wavering. “My name is Mando’a, and your name means noise, and we make each other quiet. I knew it the second I met you, I felt it. There’s no one else. It’s you and me.”

“Novalise,” he starts, and when you try to protest, you have no choice but to talk over him.

“It’s not about deserving,” you say, voice stronger, “it’s about belonging. I belong to you. I know you. Whatever bad you’ve done, whatever mistakes I’ve made, we’ve already been punished for them. I still don’t forgive you, but I’ll let you spend the rest of our lives making it up to me.”

“Nova—”

You get up on your knees, chancing out your hands long enough to poise them in the air around his face. Din makes eye contact with you, and you move forward into touching his face. His eyes close.

“Keep them closed,” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard, and he nods, just once. You kiss him, sure this time. And with Din’s lips on yours, with forgiveness the next thing on your mind, you’re energized. All the exhaustion, all the hurt, it’s all slipping away as you kiss the man you love, the man that loves you. It’s like everything led you back here.

as always, reply here or send me a message to be added to the taglist!!!

AAAAAAAAAHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! trying to keep Din and Nova apart these past few chapters was such a huge feat, and attempting to do justice to both of their emotions, feelings, and heartbreaks was so difficult to do when all i wanted was for them to kiss and make up!!!! ultimately, though, i think we've earned the reunion that comes around this chapter, and i'm so excited to share it with all of you!!! <3 we are indeed slowly nearing the end of SM, but i promise, the sequel will be coming almost immediately after! i have this last arc planned, so i'm pretty sure we'll at least have two or three more full chapters, but whenever the last one comes, i will let you know! thank you all so much for everything, for loving my story, for coming with me on this journey!!

CHAPTER 27 WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST SATURDAY, JUNE 26TH!!!

xoxo, amelie

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mochegato · 4 years

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Nannyette

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 – Lions and Robins and Ladybugs, Oh My

“The lions! This is where the lions are! I love the lions. I love their hair. It goes out everywhere. I wanna make my hair look like a lion.” Mar’i babbled loudly and happily as she pulled Marinette towards the lion exhibit. “Do you think we’ll see them? I hope we see them. They’re my favorite.”

“I thought the otters were your favorite?” Marinette commented with a smile. Almost every animal they’d seen had been Mar’i’s ‘favorite’ so far. They were enjoying a rare warm day and decided to celebrate by visiting the Gotham City Zoo before the next cold front blew through that night.

“I LOVE otters. They’re so cute and fluffy! But I love lions too. They’re my favorite favorite.” She rattled off, still pulling Marinette with her.

They had just made it to the Plexiglas enclosure for viewing the lions when they heard screaming. Marinette automatically picked up Mar’i and held her close. She turned toward the door and said loudly, “I wish someone would investigate and see what is going on for me,” hoping Tikki would pick up on the hint. She then turned back to Mar’i. “Let’s stay hidden in here until we figure out what is going on.”

They waited there for a few minutes observing people running scared and looking over their shoulders in both directions, almost like they were all running from something. Soon, Marinette saw Tikki flying back to her. She nodded subtly to Tikki and brushed Mar’i’s hair out of her face. “Hey, sweetie, do you see any lions or are they hiding too?” When Mar’i turned to the enclosure, Marinette leaned away, trying to put as much space as she could between Mar’i and Tikki, without letting go of Mar’i.

Tikki flew to Marinette’s ear and whispered quietly enough for Mar’i not to hear her. “It’s some guy wearing a black mask. He has a bunch of henchmen working their way through the zoo. They are working in teams to gather people. There are two teams headed this way from opposite sides.”

“Damn it,” Marinette mumbled under her breath. “Why does everyone try to kill us?” They were in the worst part of the zoo for this. They were in a section that had Plexiglas enclosures on either side of the walkways. There was no place to hide. No getting off the path to hide Mar’i. No sneaking into an enclosure to hide Mar’i. And with them approaching from both sides, there was no outrunning them. Marinette looked around her in a panic, frantically looking for anything she could use. She could turn into Ladybug but that was a last resort, a Mar’i-is-about-to-get-hurt-resort.

She glanced out of the observation room and stopped. The lemur observation room was directly across the walkway. The rooms were really tall, to ensure that the lemurs couldn’t jump over them. So tall, nobody could climb up there from the pathway. So tall, nobody could see the rooves from the pathway. “You have to fly.” She told Mar’i suddenly. “I need you to fly up on the lemur roof and lay on it. Stay on the roof and away from the edges. Do not move from the roof. Do not stand. Do not do anything but lay in the middle until you hear your Dad’s voice. Do you understand me? We’ll wait until nobody is looking. Now, if we could just get someone to mess with the cameras on this section….”

Mar’i nodded at her, a look of fear appearing in her eyes, missing the red blur that flew to the camera pointed to their area. “It will be okay, Mar’i. I promise you that, okay? You lay down on the roof and stay there until you hear your Dad’s… or Tim’s… or your grandfather’s? voice. Okay? I need you to do it now. Do not make any noise no matter what you hear unless it is your Dad’s or Tim’s voice okay?” Mar’i nodded again. “Okay. I love you, sweetie. You’re going to be okay, okay? I’m going to lead them away so they won’t look around here and your Daddy can come get you, okay? And your Dad will come for you in no time.” Marinette gave her a tight hug before holding her out. “Now go.”

Mar’i nodded and floated up to the roof. She backed away from the edge and laid down on the roof, curled in a ball, trying not to cry. As soon as she couldn’t see Mar’i and it looked like she was staying away from the edge, Marinette let out a breath and whispered “Good girl”. She paused to send Dick and Kori a text message letting them know what was going on and where she was having Mar’i hide, before she chose a pathway and started running.

She didn’t get very far before she came across the first set of henchmen. There were unconscious bodies strewn across the path behind them. So, they weren’t taking prisoners, they were just knocking people out… or killing them and robbing them, if the outturned pockets and open purses meant anything.

As soon as they saw her they started laughing. They didn’t expect her to continue running toward them. She motioned to kick their legs out from under the first one. When he bent down with a leer to grab her before she could reach him, Marinette jumped, delivering a flying kick that broke his jaw, knocking him over into the other henchman. She then turned back in the other direction. She needed to get the other set of henchmen away from Mar’i’s hiding spot.

She just got to the lion and lemur enclosures when she saw them. She stopped running and discretely checked to make sure Mar’i couldn’t be seen. She made sure they saw her before turning around and running back toward the henchmen she had just knocked down. As she had hoped the new henchmen started running after her too, away from Mar’i.

She slowed to a stop once she reached the original henchman. She lowered herself into a fighting position, trying to calculate if she could get past him and lead them even further away. There was a chance, slim, but she just needed a little bit of luck to pull it off. Luckily, she knew the embodiment of luck.

Marinette bounced from foot to foot like she was trying to come up with a plan, really she was analyzing the first henchman. When she was ready, she started running toward him. She motioned to sweep his feet again. As she expected, he braced himself for a high attack. Instead, she slid between his legs. As soon as she was on the other side of him, she started running again. She checked over her shoulder to make sure the three were following her. When they started lagging behind, she slowed down and pretended to consider her options, even though there were none. She didn’t want to risk them losing interest and turning back.

After a few seconds, she came to a fork in the path… and more henchmen. It was now five to one and that one hadn’t fought, beyond playful sparring matches with Adrien, in years. She looked around for a way to escape or get past the new henchmen. She could try the same maneuver again but… fuck it. It worked twice, third time’s the charm right? No, wait… that didn’t work in her favor in this instance. Three times lucky? That worked in her favor didn’t it? Sure, that’s what she was going with.

She ran full speed at the henchman on the left, motioning to kick his legs out from under him. He hunched down to block her way and Marinette jumped to go over him again. Unfortunately, the henchman on the right had his partner’s back and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. Marinette kicked the head of the left henchman since she was already in a position to, knocking him out. She used that leverage to add force to her throat punch to the right henchman.

He dropped her instantly, bringing his hands to his throat. She hit the ground in a crouch and pushed off to start running again but instead saw a blinding light followed immediately by the blurry ground rushing up toward her. She landed roughly on her hands and knees. She tried shaking her head to clear it, but that just made her head hurt more. She pushed back to kneeling as one of the henchmen walked in front of her. He swung a bat around saying something to her that she couldn’t quite make out.

Another henchman walked in front from the other side. He grinned maniacally at her and raised his foot to kick her in the face. Marinette didn’t register his foot approaching until it was a few centimeters from her face. She summoned the last of her strength to twist out of the way and kick up, meeting the most sensitive part she could reach with enough force that it was unlikely he would ever be able to have children. With that energy spent, she collapsed to the ground.

She tried to brace herself for the oncoming beating, but instead heard distant grunts and the distinct sound of punches landing. She wanted to open her eyes but her body was fighting her. When she finally felt someone’s hand meet her, it was gentle and urgent feeling. “Marinette! Marinette, are you okay? Marinette open your eyes! Please!” The voice sounded pleading and familiar.

She finally opened her eyes and saw white. She scrunched her face in confusion. She tried to refocus her eyes and took in the person’s unfamiliar full face. It was a mask she realized as she studied the face longer. It was Red Robin kneeling over her. She tried to look around for Nightwing. “Dick,” she gasped out. “Mar’i.”

“The girl you were babysitting? We know about her. My colleague is looking for her right now.” Red Robin assured her.

Marinette looked up at him, the world starting to settle a bit and make sense again, “Her dad?” she asked quietly. “I told her to only come out for her dad or you or Bruce.”

Red Robin gaped at her. “You…”

“Have a functioning brain cell?” She slurred slightly. “Yes, yes I do. It seems a little slow right now…” She tried to look around to see who was nearby to overhear them and relaxed slightly when she saw they were alone, police having already dragged the henchmen away. “Well maybe I don’t or I wouldn’t have outed myself as knowing just now. But, I normally have a functioning brain.”

“And a concussion.” Red Robin commented dryly.

“Ugh, I hate concussions. They last forever.” She clumsily tried to sit up and turn toward the direction Mar’i was hiding, squinting her eyes to see if she could see him yet.

Tim grabbed her to give her support, cradling her between his knees. “Easy, easy. Try moving slower,” He cautioned her. “I can hear him over the coms,” Red Robin told her quietly. “He has her and she’s safe.” Marinette let out a quiet sigh of relief. “A little scared but safe.”

“Thank God.” Marinette smiled closing her eyes and laying her head on his chest.

“Hey, no. None of that. You have to stay awake for me, okay?” Red Robin’s voice suddenly became strained. “We’re going to get you to a hospital and you can fall asleep there.”

“Liar,” she mumbled. “They won’t let me sleep either, not for a long time.”

Red Robin chuckled lightly. “You’re right. But humor me and talk to me. I like hearing your voice so it’s win/win for me.”

“I like your voice, you should talk to me and I can fall asleep to the sound. Win/win for me.” She retorted.

“Not if you fall into a coma. Come on, let me see your beautiful, blue eyes. I like looking into your eyes.” Red Robin gently begged her.

“You first,” she scoffed. She opened her eyes and shifted her eyes around them, remembering where they were. “Ignore that. Don’t show me right now.”

“Later, I promise.” He assured her, hugging her closer to his chest. He gently brushed her hair out of her face.

She smiled sleepily, still struggling to keep her eyes open. Her eyes popped open wide a few seconds later when she heard Mar’i scream her name. Marinette blinked a few times and turned her head in her direction. “Marinette! No, you got hurt! Marinette! Is this because of me?”

“No! I’m okay, sweetie.” She tried to smile reassuringly. “I just… fell for Red Robin’s good looks again.” Mar’i giggled in her father’s arms.

“Hey, why are you giggling at that?” Red Robin pretended to be upset. “That was a serious comment.” Mar’i giggled even harder. “That’s it, you’re grounded young lady. Go home right now.” Mar’i only laughed harder at that, nearly falling out of her father’s arms.

“You heard him, it’s home for you. Or maybe we can take you to your Grandpa Alfred, huh? Let’s go.” Nightwing said turning her away from Marinette.

“She does that a lot,” Mar’i giggled.

“Does she now?” Dick asked with an amused tone, but his eyes stayed sharp. He gave Red Robin a concerned, questioning look, darting his eyes to Marinette. He only continued walking away with Mar’i after Red Robin nodded to let him know he could handle talking care of Marinette by himself.

“And let’s get you to the ambulance, huh?” Tim gave her a gentle smile as he carefully picked her up to carry her to the ambulance.

He gripped her tighter into his chest when she laid her head on his shoulder and let out a relieved sigh. “She’s safe.” She slurred sleepily. “She’ll be okay.”

“You both will be.” Tim assured her, kissing the top of her head. “As long as you stay awake. Maybe while you are awake you can tell me why you decided to come here without me? I like animals, too.” He pretended to pout. “Enjoyable things to see, delicious food, did I mention the fries here are amazing? Spectacular company... Sounds like a perfect day.”

Marinette giggled into his shoulder then groaned at the pain the vibrations caused in her head. “I’ll make sure to invite you next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered as he handed her off to the EMTs. His fingers itched to keep holding her hand, but it would be dangerous for Red Robin to take too strong of an interest in one particular victim. He had to settle for watching them take care of her in his peripheral vision and praying everything would be okay. He knew, logically, that she would be, but that didn’t stop him from worrying until he could see her brilliant, radiant smile again.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@timari-month-event, @ichigorose @stainedglassm

#Timari January #timari #timinette #maribat #Nannyette #prompt -#Why does everyone try to kill us

243 notes · View notes

satoruvt · 4 years

Text

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend.

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left.

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day.

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement.

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time.

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job. “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars.

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!”

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower.

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung.

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!”

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down.

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom.

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself.

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen.

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring.

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart.

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add.

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,” Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it.

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel.

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh.

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though.

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #CRIES I'M SO EXCITED #THIS FIC IS MY BABY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!!!!#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagine #svt hoshi x reader #svt hoshi imagine #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine

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boom-bakugou · 4 years

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‘Message Recieved” - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: This is a gift for @mcchristinaconlinobeyme who wrote me lovely little fanfic in return 💖

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: Stalker-ish and abusive tendencies from reader’s father, Bakugou’s filthy language

Summary: You thought your villainous father was out of your life for good. Until the letters began to arrive.

Word Count: 2.5k

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It was little things at first. You couldn’t help but notice your name on flyers when you would go into the city. When men would bump into you in the street and before you had time to apologise they’d have run off without a trace. U.A. knew of your fathers history which is why they felt it necessary to have you be under more protection at school.

Though soon enough you just began to think that all those little occurrences were nothing but that, your plagued mind worrying yourself that something was bound to happen. But the teachers were taking care of you, nothing was going to change that.

Until the letters began to come.

Suspecting it was another student leaving small love letters out for you, you didn’t particularly pay much interest in it. The notes saying things like ‘Hello Y/N’ and ‘I’ve missed you a lot’. But one night as you were fading into sleep you heard the small drop of paper onto your balcony. Itching your eyes you feigned awakeness to try and see above you if someone was there and dropped it onto your balcony below. But all the lights were off on the floor above. Opening the envelope your blood ran cold, your feet stepping back until you tripped and landed with a heavy thud.

When are you going to come back home to me Y/N?

Nothing could stop the wave of tears from flowing down your face or the choked sobs falling out your mouth, you could’ve woken up the whole floor but you didn’t care as the shock settled in. You were doomed. It wasn’t until there were loud raps banging on your door that took you out of your swampy wallowing. You didn’t even wipe your face as you went to open the door, your hands shaking as you twisted the door handle- expecting to see your father there.

“Can you keep the noise down idiot some people are trying to slee-'' Bakugou stood in front of your door, hair disheveled from his rudely awoken slumber. “What’s up with you?

It wasn’t common knowledge for a lot of the students to know about your father since you had been placed under witness protection. The teachers felt it better that way also as a means for the other students to not think of you any differently from themselves.

“I need to see Mr Aizawa.” Your hands had unbeknownst to you; crushed the paper. You’d been safe for so long, why now? Why when you’re finally happy why does it have to crawl right back up to you?

“Yeah.” His answer was curt but he could see you not even taking the effort to move, or even look him in the eye. Bakugou knew something was immensely off. “Look. I’ll take you there.”

Bakugou’s hand finds the small of your back as he tries to guide you towards the elevator so you two could head to Aizawa’s room. Bakugou took a short glance at you while you waited in the elevator. He didn’t like seeing you like this, pale, sickly. And your eyes looked like they wanted to set that small piece of paper alight. Right now, he would give anything to take you out of how you’re feeling.

When you finally reach Aizawa’s dorm room, you don’t even lift an arm to knock so Bakugou proceeds for you. It takes a few moments for him to awaken and answer the door, his eyes gleaming with anger as to why you’re here.

“You two better have a good reason for being up on a school ni-.”

“I think my dad is trying to get me back.” You uttered.

It was the first time you spoke in that whole few minutes of making your way up the dorms and it felt like years of silence. Aizawa’s gaze lifted with a look of worry, asking you to continue.

“I didn’t really think about it at first, but I’ve seen things when I’ve been outside. Posters with my name on it and small threats. I figured it was just something dumb but it had to be him. A few nights ago I started getting these letters on my balcony, they were harmless so I thought one of the other students was playing a prank on me. Until I got this one.”

Your hand shakily lifted the crumpled envelope and Aizawa took it and scanned it over. Sighing as he prepared himself to speak.

“Do you think he’s trying to get you to join him in his criminal activity?” Aizawa asked, yet before you could speak Bakugou piped up; clearly confused by the interaction.

“Criminal activity? Y/N? Is someone going to tell me what’s happening here?” Bakugou did his best to keep the volume of his voice lowered but it still stuck out sharply in the empty halls. His hands crackling with annoyance as he struggled to understand the context.

“Bakugou that’s enough from you.” Aizawa’s eyes gleamed of his quirk and the small popping and smell of caramel soon dissipated. “You’ve heard enough now go back to your dor-“

“Actually Mr Aizawa, I’d prefer it if he stayed.” Your voice sounding slightly more confident than before, looking to Bakugou who’s shock rang in his eyes. He was just happy that you wanted him there. His defensive presence was almost… calming.

Aizawa acknowledged your wishes and asked you both to wait as he contacted the other teachers to be on the watch out for any disturbances on school grounds. He agreed that he’d take the night to keep watch but the teachers tomorrow would have to set up a schedule.

“Now I know you can handle yourself Y/N, but I’m trusting you Bakugou to make sure she gets to her dorm safely.” His eyes shot between the two of you, sympathy washing over you as he glanced at your sickly expression. “We’ll keep everyone safe.”

And with that Bakugou walked you both back to your dormitories. Not wanting to deal with the silence for any longer, Bakugou broke it with a sigh before speaking.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but your dads a villain?”

You nodded, you knew everyone would do their best but your father was sneaky, manipulative. He played games no one knew how, and it terrified you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? All the messages, the ways to get into your head. It was suddenly all at once eating you alive, the feeling of eyes all over your body.

“Thank you. For- staying with me.” You sigh, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the darkness of your room. Not even giving Bakugou a chance to say ‘you’re welcome’ as you shut your door. Sliding your curtains closed and double checking to make sure that everything was locked, you succumbed to a worrying slumber. The thought of your father in the front of your mind.

Throughout the days, things wore off. Your father clearly having taken a hint that security at UA had increased since his last letter. But nothing would stop him from having you back with him. And that was when the text messages started.

‘You know the fates your friends will meet if you don’t find me Y/N’

‘You can’t hide from me forever’

You hadn’t told the teachers of the texts for some moral high ground you had set upon yourself that you could push through it. He wasn’t in your life anymore and bu hacking into your phone wasn’t any different. Until the last text.

‘Tomorrow. They’ll all be dead because of you if you don’t show your face at the park, midnight. Don’t think I won’t.’

Attached to the message were selfies of you and your friends from 1-A. Laughing, smiling, having a good time together. But it was the last few photos that caught your attention. Pictures not from your phone. Photos of you and Bakugou taken from distances away, just days when you were all out shopping and hanging out on weekends together with the rest of the Bakusquad. But with every swipe of your finger, the pictures got closer and closer.

‘Katsuki Bakugou right? Don’t think I won’t blow him to smithereens too. Take up my offer or watch your friends and your little boyfriend’s faces be splattered all over TV screens at my hands.’

You swallowed the lump in your throat. This was it. You had to join him. For the safety of everyone. Packing a small bag you slipped out onto your balcony, manoeuvring ways to get down and out of UA Heights in the dark. You stifled sniffles as you snuck out, probably never going to see your friends again, and Bakugou… he was rough around his edges, yes, but he was the only one who knew. Who knew what you had been through, the torture your father had put you through. You knew you couldn’t burden him with the texts you had been getting though, he’d been your therapist enough. You had to leave. For him.

Your father didn’t give any descriptors on what park to head to, but you had your hunch. It was one that he used to take you as a kid with your mother. But that memory was all but a dream. Walking around the dimly lit paths, you searched for any sign of him before an arm tugged you into the rough of a bush. Expecting this to be your fate, you lent into the attacker.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The harsh whisper of Bakugou’s voice was weirdly music to your ears. His eyes had bags underneath them, an abnormal sight for the boy who went to bed at 8pm every day.

“What’re you doing here?” You shot back, keeping the hushed tones. Knowing your father would kill Bakugou on sight if he saw him here.

“Stopping you from doing something stupid, idiot!” His hands gripped tightly at the sides of your shoulders before dropping them as he realised he might’ve been scaring you more than he should’ve been.

“I knew something was up. I fuckin’ knew it.” Bakugou shook his head, you couldn’t read him in the darkness of the leaves surrounding you both. “I knew he wouldn’t just up and leave. Fuck-“

“Why did you follow me Bakugou?” Your voice was angry and you could see the look of shock on his face. It took him a few moments to answer before he gave a sigh.

“To take care of you idiot.” His voice is but a mere grumble, but it’s as clear as day in the quiet of the park. “You don’t have to suffer in silence. I- I’m worried about you.”

He shoots a side glance at you, obviously worried about your wellbeing. His eyes dance over your face so delicately, taking in every small aspect of it. As if he’s studied it for hundreds of years and knows each freckle by memory.

“You can’t be here.” You didn’t even realise you were crying, the look of realisation set upon his face.

“He’s here isn’t he?” His question is simple enough but it feels like a ton of bricks on your neck as you try to nod.

“Y/N~” your dad's voice rings out in the dark and it sets the two of you upright. The anger washes over his face and you realise that he can no longer hold back, and you can’t even stop him. Nothing ever stops Bakugou.

“You think you can just lure her away you freak?” Bakugou’s words reek of venom, his figure slipping out from the shrubbery, palms crackling like 1000 party poppers. “You’ll never lay a finger on her!”

Bakugou is the first to blast, you can’t help but hide in the bushes as the fight ensues, too terrified to show your face in case your dad swoops you away. But… what about Bakugou?

“Where is she?” Your father’s voice rings like a lion’s roar, it sends bile up your throat.

“Somewhere you’ll never find her!” Bakugou lies through his teeth, hoping to buy some time.

Before long it’s an all out flashy quirk fest. Your father's quirk being that of scorching energy beams, not an easy fight for the two. It didn’t take too long before your father eventually clipped Bakugou with one of his beams, sending him flying into a tree.

“Katsuki!” You scream out, revealing your hiding place. Scrambling over to Bakugou’s slumped over body you try to wake him up as your father chuckles and stomps over to you. You manage to throw him back for a few blows, keeping him away from Bakugou and yourself before you hear voices. The teachers. The sight of your father being captured by Aizawa’s scarf couldn’t help but feel like a breath of fresh air.

“They get here okay?” Bakugou chokes out from underneath you, his eyes squinting at the heroes.

“You called for help?” Your face was wet with tears, once falling because of fear and desperation and now just happy that Bakugou was seemingly alright. “That’s not like you.”

“I didn’t care what happened to that fuckin’ idiot.” His hand lays atop yours, switching his sight to you with a small smirk played upon his lips. “Just that you were safe.”

“Katsuki I-“

“I care about you a lot Y/N.” Bakugou sits himself up, wincing, so he can look you better in the eye. “I just, wanted to make sure that you were okay because… well I like you okay?”

The admission seems to hurt him but feels like a relief off of his chest.

“You were there for me Bakugou when I needed it.” You pull him delicately into a hug, the explosive smell of caramel and firewood playing upon your senses. “And… I’m thankful for that. Plus I- like you too.”

“You’re not just saying that because I saved your life are you idiot?”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit.

“No Bakugou. As I said, you’re there for me. And that’s why I like you… a lot.”

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