#life is not just being a weapon and training yourself to the ground you silly boy plant some flowers and maybe you'll feel better

[fatedefy]

⦋ ‵ As long as you're up, you can help me plant these. ʹ ⦌  @greatgospell offers.   neji immediately hesitates to respond,    behavior uncharacteristic to his usual directness save for when his cool judgement was split.   on the one hand,   her affinity for gardening intrigued him;   the serenity it seemed to evoke called upon the quiet rage in his soul,   willing it to extinguish if only for the duration of a evening spent in the company of flowers.   on the other, a questioning of his worthiness for such a thing grounded in a deep understanding of his strength and weaknesses.    (   and, perhaps, the nascent yet fundamentally human fear of trying something new and not being good at it borne of innate perfectionism ᅳ though he would never admit as much.   )   his touch was ruinous,   could it truly cultivate life ?   he contemplates it further,   stuck in place until her jovial gaze, amused yet expectant, cuts through his analysis.   then neji's body seems to move on it's own accord,   taking him forward to kneel by her side before his mind had fully made up to do so.   despite the fact he felt far out of his depth,   he was resolved to try.    ‵    ... where ᅳ how should i start ?   ʹ 

the battle of the labyrinth starters     /     ACCEPTING.

[echoalyssa]

Phantom | Dick Grayson

Authors Note: There’s some light language in this, but thats about all!

“Phantom to Nightwing, entering dead zone now. Start the clock and come in if I’m late. I love you.”

You now had an hour inside the base, unable to contact anyone. You were collecting intel and because you were the stealthiest and smallest, (Damian was too young for this particular mission) Bruce had sent you in.

Your boyfriend, Dick Grayson had wanted to come with you but Bruce had rejected the idea because two people was more risky than one.

Dick had been livid, it was more risky for your life for you to go alone. He was your partner even though you were all a team. Ever since childhood, the two of you fought together and somewhat seemed to share the same mind.

You push a vine our of your dace. Your black masks shows the digital map of the quietest places to step. Your hood is pulled up to disguise your features and skin tone that obviously didn't fit in with the darkness of the air around you.

You had left your mottled cloak behind, opting to only have to worry about your body and where you place it. 

Joker was extremely active underground lately, he’d evolved and Bruce had only your mission as a lead. 

Your mask displays your one hour timer on the left hand side of your vision. Fifty minutes to get into the compound and back to safety.

The compound comes into view, a flat stone building that just didn’t fit in with the forest that surrounded it. You creep forward, staying in the shadows and hugging the walls of the building until you reach the only vent.

The stone was practically flat but years of training allowed you to look your gloved fingers into a crevice and wedge a booted foot into the building.

You begin climbing, scaling upwards twenty feet. The screws of the vent are all different and you have to pull away from the wall, your body straining so you can unscrew the bottom two.

You’re small enough that you can pry the vent open enough that you can squeeze yourself in. Forty minutes your clock reads. You were going too slow. You crawl forward on your elbows, you trek forward, you should have asked for two hours. Shit.

You hit the record button on your wrist panel and pull the microphone out.

It’s a tiny one but the quality is amazing. You’re peering through a small vent above a research lab now and you thread the microphone and it’s wire through the vent. The audio feeds into your ear piece and also saves to the hard drive in your panel.

You’re holding your breath, only breathing when you have to to minimize any chance of getting caught.

“We need to move in now! He’s only getting more recruits and it’s only a matter of time before they find us again.” Says a voice.

“If they haven’t already! I say we try the new weapon on some unsuspecting crowd of bystanders now. Then they’ll be too busy trying to save those silly citizens to deal with us.”

“Yes but is it ready..?”

“It needs to be tested again and we need to find a more powerful energy source eventually.”

And then the joker walks into view of the vent. He’s holding a blueprint and he spreads it on one of the tables. It’s the paint schematic for the weapon because of course, the joker being the joker meant that everything needed to be green, purple, and white.

You raise a hand to your mask and tap twice. It takes a screenshot of your view of the blueprint and sends it to the bat hard drive.

“Did you have any luck with batons inner circle? Would anyone snitch?”

“A couple...” the speaker listens. It’s valuable intel and now Bruce would be able to feed false information to the rats.

You begin to tap their names away into the panel and then attempt to wirelessly hack into the mainframes. The firewall were strong and plentiful but eventually they all fall victim to you. Sixteen minutes your timer reads. Shit. The data downloading from their computers and into your drive is only halfway done.

It won’t be very detailed. Just minuscule bits of information because you couldn't connect physically to the computers. It’s a line of script here and there that didn't make much sense to you because you weren't super tech-y. Though every line counted and that you knew. Several addresses also pop up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, your panel signals that the download is complete. Seven minutes reads the timer. Double shit.

You scramble backwards knowing that you’ve done all that you can. Somehow managing to turn yourself around in the small space. You’re almost at the vent when you foot clangs against the side of the vent.

You freeze, no alarms go off, but then again why would they? The timer is still ticking and you continue on, sliding out of the vent. You fumble with the screws, attempting to get them back in in case your cover hadn't already been blown. You then plant your feet, push off and flip down to the ground. You land nimbly in a rolling crouch and then pop to your feet and take off, sprinting for the tree line.

They come from the shadows. Dozens of them. All focused in on you.

You suck in a breath and draw your longswords.

“Bring it on Goonies!” You call and they surge forward all at once. Some with guns, electric batons, and swords.

You stalk forward, meeting them in the middle. You begin slashing immediately at arms, legs, torsos, anywhere that wasn’t too lethal. You weren't a killer.

Except there were just so many, the sword in your left hand falls from your grip and you pull out a disc, throwing it into the incomers. It explodes, blinding some and wounding others. 

You yank s taser out from your belt and stab it into an attackers neck while blocking an attack with your sword. And then it happens. A baton smacks into the back of your head and you stumble forward, dizzy. A blade slashes your thigh, splitting skin and muscle. A cry comes fro, your lips and you lash out desperately with your one remaining longsword. You're able to down the foe who had slashed you.

Two more take his place and then a dagger rips through your abdomen from behind. You scream, falling to your knees. Just as it gets put through your thigh, followed by your shoulder. You land in the grass face first and the world goes dark, sound fading out.

‘Dick.’ Is your last thought.

~~~

Dick is staring at the timer that is displayed by his make. 00:00:05. 00:00:04. 00:00:03. 00:00:02. 00:00:01. And the dreaded number... 00:00:00. It blares red and he stares at the forest, fists clenched. Where was she?

Tim steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder. “Give her five minutes okay? She’s smart. You know how these missions sometimes go overtime. She’s got this.”

“We never should have sent her in alone. It was too risky. Damn it!”

His fist rockets into a tree. He considers going after Bruce, giving him a piece of his mind. Then decides that it isn’t worth it and begins to prepare to go in after his love.

He makes sure to grab the miniature cauterizer and some other emergency medical supplies, stuffing them into the pouches on his belt.

“Wait, Nightwing, we’ll go together. We need a plan!” Damian calls.

His heart is pounding out of his chest and he can’t breathe. ‘What if he was too late? What if she was already gone?’

He doesn’t want to wait for a plan, time was ticking. He pushes past his adoptive brother.

“Dick wait!” Jason calls trying to grab his arm. But he keeps going, breaking for the trees to find her.

Jason and Tim look at each other, then they both look at Damian. “Stay here.” They say simultaneously/

“No way!” He yells back at his brothers.

The three of them take them off after Nightwing. And Bruce, having watched all his children run into danger, follows them in.

Nightwing is pushing through vines and branches, not caring if he makes noise or not. He knows the rest of his family will follow him, but quietly.

His mail enhances his vision in the darkness. He draws a thumb over his own panel and it activates the heat censor on his mask. Dick Grayson pushes forward quickly, scanning frantically for her heat signature.

And then he sees it. She’s always run cold. Her fingers and limbs always frozen. A small prone figure, running colder than the other surrounding bodies. He kicks up his pace, heading for her because he just knows.

“Phantom!” he yells, followed by, “Robin! I think I found her!”

He skids to a halt and falls to his knees, he can see the stab wounds. The way her blood has soared into the ground beneath her. 

Nightwing rolls her over, jamming his fingers under her neck to find a pulse. It’s there. But weak.

He rips the cauterizer out of his belt and drapes her body over him just as Jason appears. 

“Is she..?”

“Alive.” He grunts, “Not for much longer I need to..”

Jason helps him rip the uniform away enough so Dick has enough room to maneuver.

“Hold her down!”

Jason does as he’s told and Dick places the cauterizer to her skin.

“Only do what you have to, we need to get out of here. And soon.”

He pushes the two flaps of skin together and places the sparking tool to it. The heat melds the skin together. She’d need to be pumped full of antibiotics in case any of the blades were dirty and risked infection.

She only stirs slightly, too disoriented from her loss of blood. He talks to her the whole time he works on her.

He only does her abdomen, knowing that it’s her most serious injury. It might not even hold from the jolting and jostling that would occur in the journey back. Dick stabs a painkiller into her thigh, just in case she were to awaken.

He motions to Tim and Damian, who had been standing guard, to take up the rear. Grayson then scoops up his girlfriend, cradling her to his chest.

“Jason. Take point. Let’s get her home.”

~~~

He sits by her bedside. His hands are covered in her dry blood, along with his suit. He hadn’t bothered to change.

Y/N had needed a blood transfusion and he had offered immediately, hence why there was a needle in his arm funneling blood into girlfriend. Alfred had stitched do her wounds and hooked her up to an IV for hydration and anti-infection purposes.

She’d been changed out of her uniform after she was stable for cleanliness reasons and was now wearing one of his black shirts.

He’s holding her hand, his thumb tracing over the pulse point of her wrist occasionally.

It would be a long road to recovery for her though they all knew that she would bounce back and attempt to get back in to the field as soon as she could walk.

It’s days later when she finally wakes, her eyelids fluttering.

“Dick.” She whispers.

He’s right there, just like he had been, he’d only left briefly to shower but he ate and slept at her side. Jason had covered both of your patrols, with Bruce helping out.

“I’m okay. You’re okay, babygirl.” He places a hand on her face and she leans her head into his touch.

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.       pt. two

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 2,520

notes: well, this took me too dang long to get to! got caught up writing other things, but i hope it was worth the wait. i’m fleshing out a plot for this along the way, and i’m hoping it makes sense in the end! but for now it’s just fluff. lottsa fluff and semi-slow burn. thank you for reading!! you’re a treasure.

Even if you hadn’t arrived at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the night before and formally signed your name on the contract Zhongli had meticulously drawn out, you would have kept to your word and arrived at Gimel’s island the next morning as promised. You had little with you, since you were reminded with a rather stony voice that this was meant to be an exercise in understanding and not an opportunity for battle. All you had in your little bag was a tightly wrapped lunch, a book and another vial of the concoction you had brought the day before — just in case.

No weapons. No hostilities.

You felt odd keeping your hulking claymore out of sight, but it was for the best. You weren’t looking to actively sabotage yourself, after all, and the arrangement wasn’t an awful one. All Zhongli had asked of you was to be civil towards the hypostasis and to sincerely make up for the damage you had caused. No matter how unintentional it had been, you knew it was right thing to do.

“Gimel?” You had considered hiding behind one of the walls and calling out, but concealing yourself now seemed like a silly idea. Although, calling out the element’s name to the open air felt just as silly.

The ‘ arena ’ was empty, the domineering shadows of the surrounding outcroppings shifting away as the sun rose higher over the horizon. You couldn’t feel the usual vibrations through your feet, and that only added to your concern. Every hesitant step took you closer to the center of the circle that made up Gimel’s home.

Was it still afraid? Or had it fled knowing you would be visiting more frequently? You wondered if it were possible for it to take up residence elsewhere and if that would, somehow, spoil both of the contrats you had agreed to. Hot panic was on the verge of squeezing you hard around the chest when you heard a sign behind you.

Startled, you let out a little squawk and whipped around.

“Mr. Zhongli!” You were partially relieved to see him, partially irritated that he had approached so quietly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I apologize for the fright.” He sounded genuine, but the fact that his gaze was trained on the center of the circle didn’t elude you. “When did you arrive?”

“Not even five minutes ago.” You smiled sheepishly. “Had a rough morning, but I’m here.”

“I can see that.” A fleeting smirk flickered across his features before he pursed his lips and cast his eyes around the arena. “And our friend?”

“Hasn’t shown up.” You shifted uneasily but masked it as adjusting the shoulder straps of your pack. “Can’t really blame it.”

“Time and patience. Sincerity. The wounds you’ve left won’t be healed so soon.” Reminded your companion. You sighed and slipped your pack from your bag.

“I know. I just — I want this to go well.” You huffed and sat down heavily, pack beside you. When you looked up and found you were the only one seated, you patted at the ground beside you. Zhongli blinked once, processed the request, then came to join you. You weren’t sure why, but it was amusing watching a man so tall and proper folding his legs as he settled down. Yet he didn’t look the least bit out of place, his serene expression matching the gentle whisper of the wind. In the growing light of day, he seemed to glow, as if soaking in the blooming heat of the sun like light-starved soil and warming rocks.

“If that is your true desire, then I believe all will go according to plan.” He assured you. You were mesmerized for a moment — was that optimism or confidence? You couldn’t tell, but both were appreciated.

“You’re really sure?”

“I have been around for a long time, and I like to believe that I have become quite adept at reading people. Although.  .  .” He paused for a moment, lips turning down. You leaned in.

“Although?”

“Hu Tao says I can be quite oblivious at times.” Zhongli admitted. You snorted, drawing his attention.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it. Wait, Hu Tao. Isn’t she the director of the funeral parlor? Doesn’t that mean she’s your boss?” You asked. Zhongli nodded once, and you continued. “She doesn’t mind you slacking off and comin’ out here to see Gimel?”

“I am merely a consultant. My services are required only when they are needed. When I have no work to attend to, I tend to wander.”

You hummed and leaned back on your hands, eyes up towards the brightening sky. “Do you wander out here a lot?”

“I’ve found myself visiting Gimel more often as of late.” Zhongli said with a sideways glance. You frowned and refused to peek in his direction purely out of guilt. “I like to check on them every now and again, just to see if they’re recovering properly.”

“I didn’t think they needed to recover.” You grumbled.

“Our world is no different than our mortal forms,” started Zhongli, “it can and will hurt if people aren’t careful. We can leave wounds. Look around you — these islands are proof. Gimel is no exception. While it is acceptable to harvest from a hypostasis, harvesting too frequently can leave it permanently damaged. It needs time to rest, to regrow. Tell me, did you notice anything strange the last time you fought it?”

You thought back for a moment, trying to recall the last battle you engaged the hypostasis in. It had been two days ago, you remembered. It had rained heavily in the area, leaving the ground muddy, the stone slick and the sands clingy. It had been both a blessing as a curse, or you’d thought that then. Thinking back, you did think it strange that the basalt pillars it created weren’t as strong as usual. You wanted to blame the rain, but that had hardly been your first encounter with it in the middle of a drizzle.

 “I saw them crumbling. I thought it was the rain.” You finally answered.

“That is a logical assumption to make, but you are aware of the truth now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You slumped forward, elbows on your knees and chin held in your hands. “What about other people? What are we going to do if someone else comes here expecting to find Gimel?”

“We will give them the chance to change their mind.” Zhongli shut his eyes and took in a deep calming breath. “May I ask you something, Miss Y/N?”

“Sure. Go for it.” You shrugged and fell silent, allowing him the chance.

“Thank you. I hope I’m not being terribly invasive, but what were you doing before your contracts bound you?” The question was asked delicately, leaving you room to deny him an answer if it was one you were unwilling to give. And while it did surprise you, you weren’t sure that you had any reason not to answer.

“Honestly, nothing and everything. I didn’t have an actual job. I just sort of.  .  . did what people asked me to do. I ran errands, I lent a hand where it was needed, I’ve babysat.” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Now I’m a servant for the damn——!”

You clamped your lips shut and shrank into yourself. Without looking, you knew Zhongli was staring sharply in your direction.

“For whom?”

“Does it matter?” You pulled your knees up and scowled into them. A moment quietly slid past, and you still felt his eyes on you. His piercing gaze bore a hole in the walls you had abruptly thrown up, and you found yourself squirming uncomfortably. “Fine, it’s the Treasure Hoarders.”

“I had ventured a guess, but I wanted to hear you say it.” Zhongli sighed through his nose. “Have they hurt you or your family?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“You anticipate a change?” He wondered.

“I’ve never known them to be totally honest. They’re a small group with a dumb name, but they’re loyal to their leader. Well, both leaders. The guy in charge thinks that if he can get me to find all these treasures for him, he can present them to whoever’s above him in the ranks and get himself a lovely, safe position in the group.” You scoffed. Zhongli arched a brow.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this mans intentions.” He pursued carefully. At this, you allowed the barest hint of a simper appear.

“He’s an idiot. He talks loud because he thinks it makes him intimidating. It only makes him look like a moron when he tells everyone within hearing distance what his plans are.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Am I to assume he is.  .  . how have I heard it phrased before? Ah, right. All brawn and no brains.”

It was your turn to laugh now, but the sound was a surprise when it left you. Despite your first encounter with him being tense and awkward, you realized now just how at ease you were around him. He radiated peace and understanding, calmness and patience. Lately, those were all feelings you had seen a distinct lack of. Where the Treasure Hoarders were brusk and unforgiving, Zhongli aimed to educate and reshape.

You wouldn’t have assumed for a moment that you would find yourself casually talking to him after all that had happened the day before, but you were glad for it.

“He is.” But as you both fell into a comfortable silence, you began to grow curious about the man beside you. You didn’t want to shatter the quiet you two had created, but the realization that you wouldn’t have many days like this with him prompted you to turn towards him and devote all of your attention to him. “When did you meet Gimel?”

Zhongli was taken aback, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he had become too comfortable simply sitting next to you. His amber eyes fluttered, then grew distant, as if peering at something in the far-flung distance.

“I don’t believe it’s an exaggeration to say I’ve known them my whole life.” He started. “I can’t seem to think of a time when I haven’t known them. The form has changed, but they’re still the same.”

“Sounds like you’ve always been connected. Guess that explains the Geo Vision.” You leaned back to glance at the crystal attached to his coat. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but realized he couldn’t see it. Instead, he settled for admiring you and the way your eyes shone when you glimpsed his faux Vision.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

“No.” You sighed loudly and fell back, laying across the stone and resting your hands on your stomach. “Visionless! Not worthy. Haven’t done anything in my life that warrants the gods blessing me.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zhongli frowned, his stony expression marred momentarily by disapproval. “Lacking a Vision does not make a person unworthy.”

“But it does make the people that have one super special, right?”

“I.  .  .” Zhongli stopped, made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, then rerouted his thoughts. “You don’t believe you’re special?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Do I what? Believe I am special because I have a Vision, or do I believe that you are special?” His counter question was sudden and took you aback, like a sudden slap to the face. You gaped, and when you didn’t answer, he dared to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You huffed.

“Your face. It turned the most interesting shade of red just then.” The smile he passed you was soft and kind with the faintest trace of amusement. You felt your cheeks burn hotter and quickly turned away to hide it, but it was too late. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself. I sense potential in you.”

Your stomach knotted and your lungs were madly aflutter, all thanks to those words. Out of habit, you wanted to deny him, but the tender way he spoke was too reassuring not to latch onto.

“You’d be the first to.” You spared him a quick, embarrassed glance. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It costs nothing to build a person up.” He reminded. You frowned, but not out of unhappiness. There was now a solid, burning determination in your eyes that Zhongli barely glimpsed when you stood. “What are you up to?”

“You just said that it doesn’t cost anything to build a person up. It should be the same for elements, right?” You grinned broadly, then cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gimel! I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I want you to know that I’ve always thought you were really amazing looking!”

You paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Looking down your shoulder, you found Zhongli nodding approvingly.

“You, uh.  .  . Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve seen a few hypostasis! I’ve seen the ones in Mondstadt, and the one in Dragonspine! You were always the one I was the most excited to see, even if it was to come fight you. You’ve been the toughest too. And I’m sorry!” You enthusiastic shouting was met with silence, but you thought for a moment that you felt the ground beginning to vibrate again.

As quickly as the sensation came, it left again, leaving the bottoms of your feet feeling numb. Had the hypostasis acknowledged you, or had you mistaken your quickly beating heart and rushing blood for the thrum of an elemental life force?

Your shoulders drooped, and your chest felt heavy.

“Don’t lose hope. I think what you said was lovely.” Zhongli encouraged. You sat down again and dragged your pack forward, drawstrings loosened.

“Thanks. I know you’re right. I know it’s going to take more than just saying nice things to fix what I did, but I’m going to do it. Even if we hadn’t made that contract, I’d be here.” You pulled out the lunch you had brought with you and carefully unwrapped it. “But all that shouting made me hungry, and we’ll be here for a little while longer. You want some? I made it myself.”

Zhongli made to shake his head, but you gave him a stern glare before he could.

“Don’t even. You need to eat too, you know.” You portioned out your food, placed it in his hand, then giddily began to scarf down your half. Zhongli felt an odd stirring in his chest as he glanced down at the food you’d prepared. You misunderstood the sudden admiration and gratitude for hesitation, so you nudged him gently. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’m not bad either! Trust me, it’s decent.”

“It smells wonderful.” Zhongli bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it! Quick, eat it up before it gets cold.” You paused your chewed and pocketed the bite in your cheek. “I can bring something tomorrow too if you end up liking that. Sound good?”

Zhongli nodded, and the feeling in his chest grew more agitated. “I look forward to it.”

[sweetestlamb]

Unexpected

Summary: Accidental relationships are the worst. 

Author's note: A silly little drabble(it's like 5k so idk if it's a drabble lol) I created based on an image @prodmina made for me, this is not related to BMTL at all-it's just a side dish I'm offering to my Junjin lovers. A few days ago we both noticed that these two don't really get much fluff without some angst(I'm guilty of this too so no judgement just an observation) Hence this was created, it's just a one-shot because this idea wouldn't leave my mind. This community is well fed but here's some more food for the hungry. And yes my page break this time is Sujin's sexy leg, I have no regrets.

They've been in the same school for as long as she can remember, her striving to be the best student only second to one and him seemingly showing up to drool on the nearest surface and give the female population heart palpitations. She's thankfully not one of his victims- having actual standards and a fully functional hippocampus; ergo while most girls are drawing hearts on their notebooks with Han Seojun opposite their name, she is turning her nose up at them judging them for their lack of foresight.  A pretty face would only last for so long. 

They stay out of each other's way, the only thing they have in common is Lee Suho- her childhood friend of many years and his best friends despite their varied differences. She and Suho haven't been spending much time together ever since she moved out with her mother, but he was still one of her oldest friend and someone she cared about. Long story short, they both spent years imprisoned with a monster and now they were free.

Her life was looking brighter, more technicolor and staying away from a thug like Han Seojun was only adding to its quality. 

Which is why she's dumbfounded when they run into each other, at the most inopportune of time. She's walking home after her academy classes, being a pediatrician isn't going to be child's play and she has to take every possible advantage to make her dreams a reality. Without her father’s money backing her she has to accomplish this with her own merits, she is looking forward to proving him wrong. 

Airpods in, she doesn't notice the group stalking her until it's too late. One by one they begin to surround her, leering at her body like she's a piece of meat on display- it makes the hairs on the nape of her neck raise in trepidation and disgust.  

"Isn't it too late for a pretty girl like you to be wandering all alone outside?" The one she assumes is the leader croons, voice dripping in faux concern as he rubs his hands resembling a villian out of a 1940′s comic book. 

She immediately begins to catalog how many of them there are, strategizing the best way to take them down. Fifteen of them. She can't fight them all, the best she can do is distract a few and make a run for it. 

"Isn't it too early for vermin like you to be wandering the streets?" She replies snidely, rolling her eyes when they all whistle at her jab. This is such a pathetic end to her day, it's honestly beneath her. 

"I'll make you regret that comment, you bitch!" Already with the name calling, this guy really was a cartoon villian and he couldn't even construct something creative to call her. instead choosing the most generic insult in the book. With a sigh she moves into a fighting position, fists raised guarding her face and legs apart. 

"Let's just get this over with, you're sucking up all the air with that snout you call a nose." All she sees is his sneer and eyes huge in rage before he lunges at her, his movements are so predictable and she sidesteps kicking at the back of his knee swiftly. Then she grabs another arm that comes flying at her face cruelly twisting and flipping him over her body, his groan of pain music to her ears. She easily taking them out without breaking much of a sweat, she had been fighting since she was young and they were all clearly not trained fighters, just bumbling idiots playing gangster. 

But then she hears the cold metallic click of a knife uncoiling. A shiver races down her spine. They really were low-lives, she hadn’t expected them to actually pull out a weapon. 

"You need a knife to take on one girl? Can you even call yourself a gang?" The words are exactly the ones that are in her brain but she's not the one who utters them, a new voice has entered the fray. A familiar voice at that. 

This day just keeps getting worst.

"Han Seojun, how about you mind your business we found her first she's ou--" 

The rodent looking asshole never gets to finish his sentence as her leg comes flying at his face as she executes a perfect roundhouse kick, slicing through the air and landing devastating blow on his cheek sending him flying to the ground in a heap. 

"Damn Sujin! And you call me a thug! I think you killed him." Seojun cries sputtering in disbelief motioning at the motionless body on the ground but she notes the impressed raise of his eyebrow. Like she needs him approval.

While the rest of the band of idiots are helping up their leader she realizes this is her chance, without a word to Seojun she takes off running. Easily jumping over one of her fallen attackers and stepping on his shoulder for momentum, he cries at her harsh treatment.

Turning back she sees Seojun deck a guy in the face knocking him out before he starts chasing after her, his long legs eating up the gap between them in no time, she's temporarily grateful that he's not the one chasing her the damn beanpole. 

"Are you secretly a ninja or something?" She snorts at his terrified face, chucking when he keeps looking waiting for an answer as if he truly believes she might be. Nosy idiot.

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you." She answers straight faced, watching as horror blossoms on his face and her musical laughter saturates the streets as she runs faster, he shakes his head at her smirking in reply. 

It's the beginning of the end, but she had no idea. 

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Somehow it becomes the catalyst they need to break the seal between them, she expects everything to go back to its rightful place- them ignoring the other’s presence as they've always done and only speaking when they had something rude to say, their normal. But as she's walking in the hallway she hears him shouting her name behind her, immediately all eyes in the hallway dart to them. 

"Kang Sujin! Yah! I'm talking to you!" He garners the attention of everyone in the vicinity and she turns around, annoyance purposely all over her face.  He needs to know that she is not amused with him. 

"Yeah, people across town can hear you. What do you want?" 

"Are you calling me loud?" He cries defiantly, obnoxiously even louder than before. The smirk on his face letting her know that it’s intentional, she aches to kick it off his face. 

"Is the sky blue?" She sarcastically responds, waiting for him to catch up as they walk side by side. 

"A better analogy to use would be is Han Seojun handsome?" She gags as he starts posing with a finger under his chin, in the distance she can hear high pitched squeals of his name.

She picks up her pace, regretting even giving him a moment of her time. She must have lost her mind for a moment, it wouldn’t happen again. 

"No wonder you're single. Who could compete with your love for yourself? I have something to do so I'll leave first." She doesn't wait for his response, leaving to do nothing but that's none of his business. 

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But it doesn't end there, they just keep orbiting into each other. Their groups converging at lunch and when the boys are having a heated argument about who's the best character on Dragon Ball Z, they both passionately shout out "Vegeta!!" In unison making everyone turn to face them in shock that they've agreed on something. They stare at each other as flabbergasted before Seojun pushes his hand out, palm flat and expectant look on his face. 

She simply stares back blankly, considering leaving him hanging just to see that stupid offended look he always gets around her but in the end she slaps her hand firmly against his, at least he was smart enough to know that Saiyan prince was the best.

Clap!

"Someone mark it on a calendar! Seojun and Sujin agreed on something!" Su-ah exclaims clapping her hands and smiling brightly, they both argue when several members at the table pull out their phones to commemorate the special occasion. She wrestles with Jukyeong, who's surprisingly strong and breaks free from her hold while sticking her tongue out.

"You're all so annoying!" They both explode again simultaneously, Seojun hanging off Chorong's arm as he tries to confiscate his phone, she glares at him for giving them another reason to laugh at them and Su-ah cheerily calls out, "Add that to the calendar too, they're so in sync!"

It's the worst lunch of her life, she kicks Seojun under the table. This was all his fault. Glaring when he kicks her back and they end up kicking each other until the period ends, oblivious to the stares around them. 

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At the end of the day she's eager to go home and do nothing, which is exactly when she feels someone tugging at her backpack forcefully dragging her backwards. 

"Yah! Let go of me!" She cries out, slipping her arms out of her bag and turning around in a fighting position. 

"At ease super soldier, it's just me." He replies as if that means anything, but she does lower her fists; marginally. To let him know she's ready to go at any minute.

"What do you want now?" She grumbles peering up at him and when he turns walking away with her backpack still in his arms, she chases after for that reason alone. 

"I'm going to the arcade. They have the new Dragon Ball Z game." 

She should go home and study, she promised herself she would review her notes from class today. She couldn't afford to slack off if she wanted a good life after all. 

She opens her lips to say all of this, to remind him that they can't all be pretty boy models like him some of them actually had to work for a living but instead she hears, "Fine. You're buying me something to eat." 

He begrudgingly agrees after complaining, "Aren't you rich? Why do I have to buy you food?" She skips off ignoring his rationale, only stopping when she sees his motorcycle parked in the lot. She's always wanted to ride a motorcycle. 

"Let's take your bike." She says confidently, not leaving him any room to refuse. 

He looks at her unimpressed before a cheeky smile spreads across his face, "You've always wanted to ride with me huh? Do you have dreams about it at night?" He teases her and she lazily watches him before walking up to him, looking directly into his eyes. He unconsciously takes a step back and she smirks, stepping closer again. 

" Are you nervous? Scared I might really be having dreams about you?" She watches his Adam's apple bob apprehensively before smacking him quickly on his cheek, he jolts in surprise. 

"You wish pretty boy. Now get the keys, I don't have all day." 

He gulps before snapping back to reality, wordlessly starting his bike. 

The entire school watches as they ride off together, her arms wrapped tight around his waist the wind whipping through her hair. She's never felt anything so exhilarating. 

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Their lives become entangled, it's the only way to describe it somewhat accurately. She goes to his house for weekly dinners and sometimes her mom comes too, his mom is a great cook while hers can barely boil water. It's a win-win scenario. They also study together, his grades aren't horrific but they could be better. There isn't much ceremony, he stomps over telling some boy he needs that seat and she watches as the poor kid scrambles, grabbing all his book and running away apologizing the entire way. 

"You have good grades right?" He says matter-of-fact less of a question and more of a statement before he pulls out actual textbooks from his bag. She rolls her eyes before nodding and turning back to her own studies. They study every Tuesday and Wednesday, he's always on time and treats her to tteokbokki. so she allows this transgression. 

She knows immediately why he asked for help when she sees his math test magnetized to his refrigerator door, big red A- circled. His mother brags about his score all throughout dinner, even cheering for her when Seojun informs her that she got an A+ on the same assignment. They both blush as she gushes about how smart they are. 

When the nightmares get too realistic and she can’t handle it alone anymore, he drops her off to therapy sessions and brings her to the gym after so she can release all her anger on a punching bag. He never asks her what's wrong but he drops her home after and the silence is comfortable between them. 

They both never mention their dads but she goes to the cemetery with him and stands quietly as he pays his respect and takes him to get ice cream after, the dinner with his family after is somber but she wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

They never discuss what exactly is going on between them, they're just there for each other and that's enough. 

At least she thought it was. 

It's stupid but ever since they became...closer he's been getting more confessions than usual  even for him they pour down like rain. Multiple girls a day sometimes as if they took numbers and decided to go in order, she dodges them at every turn but there's always a tinge in her chest and she contemplates going to the nurse because there must be something medically wrong with her. 

She can barely taste the fried pork as she watches another girl shuffle over to their table, giant red heart box pressed tight against her chest as she approaches Seojun. His friends all notice and are chanting his name, elbowing and shouldering him excitedly. 

“Han Seojun! Han Seojun!” 

Su-ah suddenly places a warm hand on her knee, she looks at her in shock. Fear gripping at her as the other girl stares at her with gentle comforting eyes. She pushes the hand away. She doesn’t need comfort, she is fine. Fine. 

Her throat tightens as the confession starts.

"Han Seojun, I-I've liked you since last year. Willyougooutwithme?" This isn't new, they usually lose their nerve at the end sputtering out their feelings all over him. She never sticks around long enough to hear his answers, but this time she has no choice; if she leaves that would be suspicious. It would give people the wrong impression. 

She swallows her blueberry milk, he'd tossed it at her this morning saying he bought the wrong one. Coincidentally that was her favorite. It taste like chalk now on her tongue. 

"Sorry, I'm not interested." He answers truly sounding apologetic, she shifts in her seat, pointedly staring at her food. Stifling her smile by stuffing cold noodles into her mouth. 

There is a long silence as the cafeteria watches, all waiting for the girl’s  reaction. Usually there are tears, loud wailing cries and pleading for another chance, but sometimes they are silent as they walk off heartbroken, friends waiting to soothe them. 

The girl sighs, but unlike the others who usually scurry away, she speaks again, "Can I ask why? Do you already like someone?" 

A thrumming energy fills the room following her question, girls all looking around at each other, preening hopeful that they've captured the heart of the resident bad boy. She just wants this uncomfortable moment to end already, it's giving her indigestion. 

"Yes. I like someone." 

It feels like a sledgehammer to her chest, ignoring Su-ah's hand clutching at hers she stands up grabbing her tray. Nobody pays her any mind besides her two best friends, she weakly smiles at them, "I'm all done. I'm gonna head to the library I'll see you both later." 

She tosses out her tray viciously, forcing herself not to look back. 

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Avoiding him isn't easy, he's always there waiting for her or texting her to ask why she isn't coming over for dinner because his mother made her favorite. She's never lied to him before but she finds herself doing just that, feigning illnesses and late night classes. Which only results in him offering to bring her soup and give her a ride to said classes. Like she said their lives were for lack of a better word, entangled. 

But she sticks to it, keeping her distance from him as she tries to understand why exactly she's doing this. He's her friend she should be happy that he likes someone, he was an idiot but it was probable that the feeling was mutual. He would finally have a girlfriend, someone to fill the spot she had been temporarily occupying. Someone he could bring home for dinners and someone to accompany him at his father's grave. Someone to talk to late at nights when he had a nightmare about losing his family and couldn’t fall asleep. Someone, not her. 

"I'm happy for him. I should be feeling sorry for the poor girl he likes." She whispers to herself, aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Instagram has been a great source of distraction lately. As soon as she opens the app she sees a red dot pop up, a notification. She taps it seeing that she's been tagged in a photo, then another notification pops up and another and another and they start coming in too quickly for her to keep up. 

"What the hell?" She admonishes aloud, clicking randomly on one of the notifications ready to see what's causing such an uproar.

It's a picture of her. 

She remembers the day clearly, Seojun had forced her to go with him to a new diner that specialized in American cuisine, all so he could stuff his face with pancakes. She had no clue he'd taken a picture of her. Something that feels butterflies flutters in her stomach as she reads his caption. 

How do you get a princess to forgive you? 

Was this some kind of joke? What the hell was he thinking? She bulks at all the likes and comments on the photo after only two hours, she'd never gotten that much attention on a photo but she rarely posted pictures of her face. There were a lot of creeps online. 

Nervously she taps to view the comments, it's a mixed bag of reactions. Girls she's never met before cursing her very existence as if she's a threat to their imaginary relationship with him and the very same creeps that caused her not to post selfies on her page posting disgusting sexual comments. 

She instinctively taps to reply to rip them to shreds before she realizes that Seojun has already replied to every comment from a guy, threatening them explicitly and a few comments are even accusing him of deleting comments. There are a few comments calling her pretty but those are few and far in between and usually they are attacked in their replies by other jealous fan girls. 

Anger bubbles in her gut, what the fuck was he thinking posting a picture of her for all these vipers to see? 

Impulsively she taps the screen harshly, fingers flying across her keyboard. 

Delete this now. Are you insane? Who are you calling a princess?! 

Almost immediately she regrets her rash decision as comments flood in. 

How dare you talk to oppa like that? 

Oppa see she doesn't deserve you! 

Who is this snotty bitch?

You're not pretty enough to be this stuck up honestly, no offense. 

You should be happy a hot guy is posting you, ungrateful. 

She's tempted to reply to each comment, who did think they were talking to, she wasn't some pushover, let's see if they would have this much gall to say this to her face. She'd taken on a gang of would be thugs, she had no problem beating some sense into some bitches. 

But they're not worth her time or energy. 

Swiping the app close, she takes a calming breath. Counting to three. Then five. Then ten. Then twenty. When her anger is nothing but a low thrum beneath her skin, she opens her contacts going to get favorites and clicking his name,  bringing her phone to her ears. 

"Finished ignoring me princess?" He answers smoothly, sounding far too relaxed for all the trouble he's caused. She wants to wring his neck.

"Have you lost your mind?" She cuts to the chase, huffing angrily as her phone buzzes with more notification. "Han Seojun you better delete that picture right now!" 

"You've been ignoring my calls and texts and pretending you don't see me at school. What else was I supposed to do?" She can hear the strain in his voice, but he doesn't sound angry, no that's his hurt voice. 

"I've just been busy. You didn't need to do something this... extreme." 

He scoffs, clearly not believing her excuse. It sounds weak to even her own ears, they'd gotten too close they made time for each other, doing the most mundane things together, he even helped her clean her house sometimes and she would regularly help him shop for groceries. 

"Come open your door. I think we need to talk." 

He hangs up after his statement, leaving her to stare at her phone in shock. 

"That little piece of shit." She curses, running a hand through her hair before she hops out of bed, running to open her apartment door. She slows down as she nears the door, not wanting him to think her too eager. She's not. 

Running her hand through her hair again, she slowly pulls open the door. A breath swooshes through her lips at the sight of him, she's been avoiding him so much it's overwhelming to be staring at him directly like this. 

They stare at each other, the air unexpectedly charged between them as their gazes meet.

"It's rude to leave someone standing outside." He quips finally, pressing past her before she can reply to his complaint, she huffs in annoyance stepped aside to give him entry. 

Familiarly he toes off his boots, putting on the slippers her mom had purchased for him after his presence became more constant. Then he strides across the small space of her living room, sitting on her couch and glancing at her expectantly. She closes her door with a sigh, walking over and sitting in the single love seat. He stares at her hard. She struggles to keep his gaze. 

"What did I do? Whatever it is, I'm sorry. If you tell me what it is, I probably won't do it again." 

She's so taken back by his immediate apology that she stupidly focuses on the least important word in the sentence, "Probably?" 

He shrugs in reply, "I like pushing your buttons. You like it too. So I can’t make promises until I know what I did.” 

She can't argue with his assessment, they did have a very unusual relationship built on mutual sarcasm and backhanded compliments. They both were masters of never truly saying what they were thinking or feeling, too scared of rejection to make the final jump of fate. So they just kept crashing into each other, prodding and poking without recognizing why. 

"I'm not mad at you." She admits, she has no reason to be upset. He hadn't done anything besides like someone else, that wasn't a crime.  Unless the judge was her heart and then he had committed the most heinous of crimes. 

"Then why are you avoiding me?" The crux of it all, she was avoiding him because he forced her to acknowledge the secret she'd kept so hidden even she was unaware of it until it hit her over the head. 

"Why do you care so much?" She counters defensively, feeling naked under his penetrating stare. 

He laughs coldly, "Answering my question with a question. Never took you for a coward Kang Sujin." 

She bristles at the snide remark, who was he to call her a coward?

"If I'm a coward why are you here? Why post my picture on your Instagram? Don't you like someone, why are you here bothering me!" She hisses at him, each word gradually increasing in volume until she's screaming at his blank face. Then he starts laughing, pure unhindered laughter from his belly that stings her ears. She made herself too obvious. 

"Aren't you supposed to be smart?" 

"What do you mean by tha-" He cuts her off before she can finish shouting, "How do you not know that I was talking about you?" 

Her voice drains like water slipping down a sink as she hears the words he said, she blinks before her mouth falls open in shock. 

"Was I really letting you tutor me? What was I thinking?" He laments to the ceiling, mocking her but she's too riled up now already climbing out of her seat and striding over to him. He jolts backwards as she places her hands on his shoulders, searching his face and delighting at his wide eyes before climbing into his lap. He wheezes but his hand immediately latch onto her hips. She stares at him closely, eyes trailing from his hypnotic eyes, down to his lifted pert nose and lingering on his full plush lips. 

"You like me." She states, watching how his eyes flutter shut before landing on her own lips. 

"I thought it was very clear. Who else could I have been talking about, I spend all my time with you." 

He's right, they did spend a lot of time together prior to her self-preserving decision to avoid him like the plague. She hadn't realized when her feelings for him had changed, thinking they were simply friends the entire time.  A friend that she thought about constantly, who she wanted to spend all her time with and sometimes she's idly imagine kissing or holding his hand. She certainly hasn't expected anything. 

But here he was offering.  She wasn’t a good enough person to turn it down. 

"I'm going to kiss you. Stop me if you don't want that." She states boldly, now that she knows this is on the table, he's on the table she is practically starving and all her doubts have transformed into the desire, the desire to touch and be touched. He glances at her, his patented 'are you stupid?' stare and she laughs before smashing their lips together. It's hard and a little uncomfortable, with their lips just roughly pressed together and she wonders if they're doing it right before his hands stroke her cheeks, tilting her head as he slows down the kiss until it's sweeter and softer and oh, is that his tongue? He swipes at her sealed lips and she only hesitates for a moment before slowly opening and allowing him entrance.

This takes the kiss to another level, as her head swims at his flavor- something spicy and earthy irrevocably Seojun that she finds addicting and she eagerly sticks her tongue into his mouth, licking at his moist cavern. Wet smacks fill the air as they suck at each other's face, his large hands nearly circling her waist entirely she shivers at the touch, feeling small and delicate in his arms. He reaches up a hand to caress her hair and she mimics the move, pushing her hand through his thick hair tugging at the end of his mullet. When they break apart, panting into each other's mouths she feels like her soul has been set ablaze. 

"Since you're so smart I guess I don't have to tell you how I feel." She says trying to regain her composure and her breath, her lungs feel winded like she's run a marathon.

"Of course not. Everyone likes me, you're no exception." He replies cockily and she groans in exaggerated disgust pushing him away and clamoring out of his lap, but he tightens his grip with a deep chuckle easily manhandling her until they are laying on her couch, her back to his front. His breath is hot on her neck. 

"My mom will be home soon, we can't stay like this." She warns reaching back to move his arm which is digging into her back, dragging his arm over her waist and squirming until she's comfortable.

"I know. We still have an hour. She's working overtime tonight." 

Of course he knows her mom's schedule, she tries to smother her smile. She fails but nobody seems so she'll take it as a partial victory. 

He reaches over her, grabbing the remote before switching on Netflix and putting on a movie they'd started before but never finished because she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He had complained about her drooling on his favorite sweater the next day at school, as she shushed him and people looked over at the odd pair. 

"You're gonna delete that picture right?" She asks, only barely focused on the movie too distracted by his warmth behind her. She has to smother a moan when he starts stroking aimlessly on her waist. His fingertips igniting her skin in a warm burn that travels to her heart and lower. 

"Humph why can't I have a picture of my girlfriend on my page?" 

She turns around immediately, "Girlfriend? Who said anything about that," she rebuttals watching his eyes narrow until they're barely slits. She doesn't hate that look on him. 

"You kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend like that?" She blushes at him mentioning that, the kiss still very vivid in her mind, her lips still tingling. 

"Shut up." She huffs punching him in the chest, but he catches her hand and yanks her close until they're chest to chest, noses almost touching, lips a hair's breadth apart. 

"I'm going to kiss my girlfriend, stop me if you don't want it." He echoes her earlier words, gripping the back of her head as he stares at her a clear challenge, smirking when she doesn't move away before he devours her lips again. She groans around his tongue in her mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as their lips slide wetly against each other.

When the jingle of keys sound several minutes later, she tumbles off the couch frantically as her mom pushes the door open. She wipes her lips, before looking up at Seojun; he looks wrecked- hair tussled and sticking up in different directions, his cheeks are burning red looking hot to the touch and his lips are sore and wet. Her heart does a somersault in her chest at the sight. 

Fuck. That's my boyfriend.

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She lets him keep the photo on his account in the end, it keeps the hungry fan girls away and guys leave her alone for the most apart. She ignores his smirk when he sees her comment under the photo. 

To everyone who has something to say, Han Seojun is mine. If you have a problem with that, come say it to my face. 

Nobody ever comes to say it to her face. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous princess.” He teases her, and she scoffs at him, “You’re one to talk, didn’t you almost get into a fist fight today because someone commented that they wanted to ‘tap that’?” 

He growls at the memory of that, only the principal strolling in had stopped him. 

“You guys are perfect for each other, both deadly and gorgeous.” Su-ah adds gleefully pushing her way between them and linking arms on both sides. 

She pushes his hand away when he immediately reaches for her, “Yah! Give me back my girlfriend!” He whines desperately trying to circumvent Su-ah and grab her hand, whining loudly about third wheels and people trying to get in the way of true love.

She’ll never get tired of hearing that. 

She was Han Seojun's girlfriend and he was her boyfriend, everyone could stay mad.

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem! reader (pt.3)

SUMMARY: this takes place around the end of book 1 - but uhhhh I deadass don’t know how to give a summary for this without giving anything away soooo enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: mentions of death and suicide. Scars. Swearing. Non- sexual nudity. Nightmares. Panic attack ish.  mention of torture.

KEY: italics = internal thoughts & *** = flashback

OTHER PARTS:  pt1   /   pt2 /  pt4   /   pt5   /   pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

You’d been walking in the back streets of the capital with your face turned to the sun for the past two hours. The black mask shielding the bottom half of your face hid the sigh that left your lips as you finally approached the palace.

Fucking finally.

Even though you were a Fire bender, it didn’t make it any less annoying as the sun blistered down of the completely black outfit you were wearing. It covered every piece of your skin from your neck, down to your feet. Even your scarred fingertips were hidden from the world.

As you neared the gates, they immediately began to open, inviting you in with open arms. This made you one of the few people, apart from the royal family, that didn’t need to prove their identity to get in. All the guards knew who you were and what you did for the Fire Lord, promoting you from being a prisoner to one of the most well looked after people in the entire Nation. Technically, they were never instructed to provide you with immediate access. Yet, as rumours spread throughout the palaces’ echoing halls, their fear of you doing what you did to all those people when out on missions, seemed to override those basic routines.

Normally you’d scoff at how silly it all was, the fact that they feared a 16-year-old girl almost made you feel sorry for them. As guards of the Nation they should stand with pride and confidence. You suppose that’s what happens when even though they don’t see it, they have nothing to be prideful about considering who their current ruler is. Regardless, today you appreciated their diligence, storming through the gates, and making your way straight to the throne room. You didn’t even give anyone an initial glance. You were pissed. This had been the fourth mission in a row where you were sent to take out some random high position person from some other nation. All this travelling back and forth began to get on your nerves.

Maybe it was from the heightened stress of the most recent task. This one, in particular, set you off because of the minimal information you had to take them out. All you were provided with was that they were from the Water Tribe, and had been at sea in a fleet for multiple years, taking down Fire Nation units.

Gee thanks! Give me a few weeks, and I’ll track down this mysterious person you don’t even know the name of and be on my way! Hmmm, now my first plan of action will be to flip a gold piece to decide if I should swim to the Northern or the Southern tribe to gather intel! Just you wait Ozai. I’ll take that stupid, pathetic, floppy thing you call a beard and drag you into the fire in front of your throne you piece of-

Abruptly cutting off your internal rant, you walked past the guards who immediately opened the doors to the throne room as they saw you approaching; noticing the long braid down your back alit in your raged fire. Reaching the middle of the throne room you didn’t even bother to bow, throwing a Water Tribe necklace splattered in blood to the ground. “It’s done.”

The guard closest to you hastily picked it up and climbed the stairs to hand it to Ozai for an inspection. Eyeing the tribal necklace in the guards’ hand, he made no move to take it away from him physically. Ironic how he has slaughtered so many yet refuses to get real blood on his hands.

“Prove yourself.”

You instantly provided him with the report you memorised on how you conducted the mission with details on an weekly basis. This ensured you actually went through with the assassination- you suggested that you could bring back their head two years ago, but apparently that was too gruesome to be in the presence of the great Fire Lord. There were no pauses or stutters as you rehearsed it on your journey back to the capital.

“Present the details of the savage.”

You held back a sigh, this was always your least favourite part. “The person you sent out for went by the name of Hakoda. He was of the Southern Water Tribe and Chief to one of its smaller villages. During my time undercover in the tribe, I acquired knowledge that his wife was disposed of under the assumption that she was the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe and had two children. It is also to my knowledge that his children are currently travelling with the Avatar. Through making connections with the villagers, I set out to sea in search for him and managed to gain access and trust upon the main ship when they were docked in an isolated part of the Earth Kingdom for supplies. I went under an alias of a homeless non-bending orphan from the Northern Water Tribe wanting revenge on the Fire Nation for slaughtering my parents. When it came time to dispose of him, I did so in the middle of the night after faking a nightmare, seeking him out as a father figure for comfort. I used his own weapon against him as he held me, speaking words of comfort, expressing that I was safe and how I was like a daughter to him. A daughter who would have been a great older sister to his children. During this moment of emotional weakness for him, I assassinated him before he could have even registered that I would have been an awful sister. Leaving before dawn, I made the scene look like a suicide with a letter expressing in detail how being away from his children was too much to bear.”

Ozai looked up from the necklace, satisfied with the briefing. “Hmmm, well-done y/n. Tell me, what do you know of his children?”

“Nothing of great importance other than knowledge of them travelling with the Avatar.”

“Very well, you may have a day’s rest and will be informed of your next task tomorrow evening. Your payment for your services is already in your quarters.”

You bowed knowing you were lucky he let it slide when you walked in. “Thank you, my Fire Lord.”

Exiting the throne room, you made your way to your living quarters, looking forward to the sensation of washed hair, clean clothes, and your bed.

When you finally made it back to your room, you let out a sigh of relief immediately ripping off your mask. As the years went by, nothing seemed to get easier, and nothing seemed to stop. You cherished the moments of silence, the brief period of time where the universe aligned in such a way that you were able to pretend this wasn’t your life. One mission after another, constantly lying to do what needed to be done, amid all the alias’ you made up, you wondered which one really demonstrated who you were as a person. The idea of having to settle with the Fire Lord’s personal assassin didn’t necessarily make you giddy with pride.

You made your way to the bathtub that awaited you in the adjoining room, peeling off the once breathable fabric, off your body as you went. The tub was already full as the servants went to prepare it when they heard the word of your return. You finally unravelled the braid holding your hair together, yet another symbol of the job you committed yourself to. On the first day of training, you were told that if you were caught, your affiliation with the Fire Nation should be buried with you.  

Your skin shuddered as you entered the chilled water, easing your mind that warm water would never satisfy in this Nation’s climate. You leant back with a small wince as your scarred back made contact with the tub. Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for other assassins to have some form of physical scarring whether that be from training, a mission gone wrong, or punishment from their supervisor. In some unusual way, you were never insecure about it, only annoyed that you had to sleep in odd positions because of the sensitivity.

You began to drift, succumbing to the cool, soothing water around you. Between the stress of returning to the capital, and the stress that awaited you on your next task, you allowed yourself to let go. Free yourself of any thoughts. In your current state, you weren’t scarred. You weren’t trapped in what seemed like a never-ending cycle of duty. You weren’t anyone to anything.

As the moon began to shine through the windows into the bathroom, you woke up with a start, water splashing onto the tiles around you, your heart racing and sweat soaking the unsubmerged parts of your body. Running your hand through your hair, you fought the urge to let out an overwhelmed sob. Nightmares were a common occurrence for you, but this one settled under your skin like a scratch you would never be able to itch.

Air seemed to close in on your lungs, no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, all you could focus on was the fact you couldn’t breathe. Hastily fumbling, and tripping as you got out of the tub, you forced yourself to reach for the first clean robe you could get your hands on. As your thoughts mixed into on jumbled heap, you desperately tried to get it together.

He believed you.

They all did, you knew it in the way that the guards struggled to hide back their expressions of discomfort as you described how you oh so easily manipulated a grown man, warrior, and chief, only to kill him.

It was a lie. All of it. Yet why did I dream of them finding out now?

You’ve never assassinated anyone since that general three years ago, and you most certainly never killed Hakoda. From the very moment you accepted the offer, you knew you’d never go through with the commissions. During the brief period when you trained and got back onto a healthy diet was when you mentally formulated how you would conduct each “killing”. It was simple, you’d carry out the mission as you normally would, but in the time you were supposed to spend working out how to dispose of them, you helped them create a new life for themselves. You didn’t bother trying to shield the truth from them, knew the Fire Lord wanted them dead. While it sent them into a panic, in the long run, it made everything a whole lot easier. They could never go by who they once were, and needed to move far, far, away from wherever they lived. The lives they once knew erased, cutting off all ties.

Idiot. Why did I have to make an exception now?

Instantly dismissing the question that wriggled its way into your head, you began to journey to the kitchens in desperate need for a distraction. You knew why you made the exception.

***

Three weeks ago, when you were on the ship with Hakoda, you did actually have a nightmare, prompting you to go out onto the deck to clear your mind. The air was crisp, eliciting goosebumps across your skin. Quickly letting out a breath of fire, you began to regulate your body temperature as you noticed Hakoda already looking out to the never-ending expanse of the ocean. As an experienced warrior, he heard you approach.

“Y/n? The moon has been out for a long time now, you should be asleep.”

Sighing, you stood next to him, joining him in looking out to the sea. “Nightmares.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no fear in your voice as you recounted the altered memories of your torture, he already knew who you were, where you were from… what you did. All things considered; he took everything pretty well, barely holding it against you. To him, you were just a kid who was sucked into this life, making the best with what you had.

Finishing your poor recount of the nightmare, you turned to face him. “I have to go back soon. I’ve been pushing it by staying for an extra month. We need to make a plan for you to leave. You need to start a new life.”

He knew this conversation was coming ever since he managed to persuade you to help them out for a while. After all, he seemed to look straight past the wall you put up to know that you wanted Ozai’s reign to end. Despite respecting your boundaries, when you took off your mask in front everyone on board, the scar on your neck that travelled beneath your long sleeve shirt as it encompassed your hand, was enough to know that you suffered just like everyone else.

“Y/n, you know I can’t do that. My children, Sokka and Katara, they’re travelling with the Avatar right now, and I haven’t seen them since they were young. I can’t just leave and have you fake my death like that, Bato told me how much hope that knowing I’m alive brings to them! If I go and word gets out that you ‘assassinated’ me… it will crush them. Their close relationship with the worlds only hope is too much of a risk. I need them to be strong. The world needs them to be strong. I’m sorry y/n, but I can’t.”

You stared at him processing his words. Ultimately you knew he was right, but you couldn’t go back after such a long time just to say you failed. The Fire Lord would destroy you. “I understand where you are coming from. I do, but you can’t seriously expect me to go back with nothing! What do you expect me to do?! Oh, sorry Fire Brain I couldn’t kill him because something suddenly possessed me to feel bad about how his children might feel! Don’t worry, though, I didn’t care every other time I knew about other targets’ children! Unless you have some genius plan, I’m sorry, but Sokka and Katara are just going to have to suck it up. Let’s be realistic, yes, this MAY damage them and their duty to support the Avatar, but at least you can go back to them when this war is over!”

He ran his hand over his face, clearly trying to stay calm and collected. “I know, y/n. That’s why I’ve been up all night making a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”

You crossed your arms, scoffing at him. “The fact you’re suggesting something other than what I have ALREADY planned makes me not like it… but let’s hear it.”

He attempted to start with the parts of the plan he knew you’d agree on, which didn’t last long. “Well, we can incorporate some of your plans into it, that being we fake my death taking by tribal necklace back to the Fire Nation splattered in the animal’s blood. Yet everything else? We’re scrapping it.”

Biting on your tongue, you fought the urge to scream at how stupid this was sounding.

Relieved you didn’t bite back, he continued. “I’ll stay with the crew and then-“

That was enough for you to lose control. “Okay, I’m sorry did you just say you want to stay with the crew?! I am supposed to be taking out the LEADER OF THIS FLEET! If you stay with them and continue to attack vulnerable units, they will know, and they’ll have my head!”

“I know y/n! Which is why, when you’re gone, Batu will temporarily take over as captain until further notice. I, on the other hand, will only help plan the attacks stay in the background until it’s safe. Now, as for my kids, we’ll send them a letter letting them know I’m safe and hopefully a location so I can reunite with them.”

“But what if-“

“The letter gets intercepted? It’s just going to have to be a small risk.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to bring the conversation to a less hostile level. “More often than not, there is no perfect plan. You should know that, by faking all of your assassinations since working for the Fire Lord. Which might I add, is the biggest risk you could possibly take. It will all work out in the end; trust me. But, this is your playing field, if you truly think me disappearing is the only way, then we can go ahead with the original plan.”

Sucking in a breath, you stared at Hakoda as if he grew two heads.

Did he just give me an option?

“W-what do you mean what I think?! You literally just said that you CAN’T leave your children! You gave me an alternative plan, and now you’re saying that if I disagree you’ll do as I say? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He let out a laugh, amused by your concerns. “Y/n, you have been trained in this area and executing the fake assassinations all on your own for over two years. No one knows the ins and outs of how the Fire Nation plans things like you do. If you think my plan is severely flawed and both of us are bound to get caught, I will trust your judgement in which is the best to conduct. Yes, I said that we should be thinking of my kids and the Avatar, his destiny is bigger than any of this, but everyone should be allowed to choose what they want to do, I am just allowing you to expand your options.”

With a final breath, he truly looked at you with sincerity, “I trust you y/n.”

It all seemed too much. All your life it felt like there was only one obvious pathway; do what it takes to survive. Everything he said was right, and it dawned on you that for once the decision you were about to make had two genuinely good choices. Hakoda gifted you with that privilege. Either way, you would save his life and yours. Yet you knew that the new pathway presented to you would lead you something bigger, just like he said. You couldn’t take one of the few good things away from his kids.

Overcome with emotion, you hugged him. “Thank you. We’ll do it. You need to stay.”

He hugged you back as you began to cry.

***

After spending the remainder of the night stuffing your face in the kitchens, you didn’t go back to sleep and started to train with whoever was willing until it was time to hear of your next target. By no means were you looking forward to it, but you were ready to distance yourself from the last mission as it regularly filled your mind.

I wonder if he actually put Bato in charge and stood down? Stop thinking about it y/n. It doesn’t matter anymore; you’ll never have to see him again.

As the sun started to disappear into the Fire Nations skyline, you headed for the throne room knowing you shouldn’t keep Ozai waiting.

I can’t wait to see the show he has prepared for me. I wonder how dark he tried to make the lighting this time. Ooo! Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get 20-foot flames! Then I won’t have to see his ugly beard.

Entering the room and bowing before him, you fought back a snicker as it truly felt like the room seemed darker than usual.

“Y/n, you have come a long way from being a traitor and prisoner to the Nation to one of the most valuable assets. Your next task will be the ultimate test of your loyalty to me. I have trusted and sent my daughter Azula on a mission to bring back my traitor of a brother, and my failure of a son.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Azula was no stranger to riling you up whenever you crossed paths over her brother, and you were well aware of the encounters he had with the Avatar. But not once were you brought into the dysfunctions of their family. Now all of a sudden you were formally addressed by Ozai who was mentioning these events to you? It made you hyper-aware of the scars that stretched along your left side. The only personal connection you had with Zuko.

“While she undoubtedly has my complete trust, and I do not doubt her abilities, she lacks experience. Azula does not have the knowledge of the world, and fighting styles from the other nations like you do. For that, I am entrusting you to take care of the collateral damage. If things are to go wrong, if she is faced with a circumstance hindering her ability to do her task, it is your job to finish it. Even if that means harm must come to her, the mission is the utmost priority. Should you fail, do not underestimate the consequences you’ll face if you ever step back into the Nation.”

In your best attempt to keep your composure, you replied in a cool but firm tone. “Of course, my Fire Lord.”

“Good. You leave at dawn and do not return until my daughter succeeds.”

Bowing in acknowledgement, you began to leave. But you quickly halt your movements as you hear his voice again.

“One last thing y/n. Azula is not to know that you are tracking her at any stage during her mission. You are to distance yourself, only intervening when there is no other option.”

You bow for the last time. “You have my word.”

Making your way to prepare supplies for your journey, you fight the urge to curse out the entire royal family throughout the halls.

Babysitting duty. I was tortured for eight fucking months. Trained to boredom by Zemin’s brother, Piandao, for one month, and some knock-off fire bending master for a week because he didn’t know how to control me, and went gallivanting across the nations to fake assassinations. Not only that but also assist them in making new lives for themselves, FOR BABYSITTING DUTY! ALL BECAUSE HIS SPOILED, SOCIOPATHIC DAUGHTER WITH AN SUPERIORITY COMPLEX ISN’T EXPERIENCED ENOUGH?!

In your silent rage, you make it back to your room trying to reason with yourself that you shouldn’t kill Azula the second you both cross the Fire Nation boarders.

A/N: so…. Did I have y’all in the first half? LMAO AHAHHA.

Also I really thought I was going to have the gaang in this one #fool (oopsies) I really didn’t think the hakoda portion would consume so much of the chapter :/ BUT!! They’re definitely in the next one

Thanks for reading though! On the bright side I’m (finally) on my mid-semester break!!! Woohoo! I’m so excited to wrap up this semester wowies (uni has been kicking my butt),, but this does mean I’ll have more time to write so you guys might get a chapter earlier than normal 😊 Anyway, as normal feel free to message me or leave a comment!

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​

@kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​

@ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​

[pettyprocrastination]

Dude i cant wait for your ATLA/GOT crossover fics its a cool as fuck idea and my dumb brain made me sad thinking of Oberyns/Ellarias Airbender s/o taking them to the air temples only to figure out her people were slaughtered and she's(apparently) the only one left and damn im in my feels

Don’t make yourself sad bb!!! Have some fluff for the soul!!!!

`````

“What are you doing?”

Your eyes opened at her question. Dorea, one of Oberyn’s youngest daughters, stood before you, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. Which given how young she was, was quite adorable to see. 

“Meditating.” You answered. You knew that she was a curious child, which meant at her interest you would most likely not get any meditating done now that she had found you. Which you were okay with. She was a sweet, excitable young girl, you remembered being the same way as a child raised at the temple. 

“Why?”

“Meditating helps bring us peace of mind.” You answered, letting your eyes shut once more. You let all the noises around you melt away, the whistling of the wind, the ebb and flow of the dornish waters, it all slowly began to sift away like sand through your fingers. 

“I wanna try!” 

All of course, except for Dorea. 

You peeked one eye open to see Dorea plop down in front of you, crossing her legs in the same position as you before squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Her brow was furrowed and cheeks puffed out, you could see the strain in her little body as she focused every muscle in her body on what she thought was meditation. 

“You're trying too hard, little Martell.” She opened her eyes and her little lips curved down in a frustrated pout. 

“But I was doing exactly what you were doing!” She whined, throwing her head back with a groan. 

She had certainly inherited her father’s dramatics. 

“It doesn’t matter if your body is in the right position if your mind isn’t clear.” You advised before letting your eyes close again. “Follow my lead.”

She straightened her back and closed her eyes. 

“Let every thought clear from your mind.” You told her. “Let your breathe slow like the winds, and focus on nothing. Empty your head like the sands in an hour glass. Focus on the feeling of peace it brings you.”

Your own breathing slowed with hers, you heard no fidgeting or pips from Dorea, so you assumed that meant it was working. You would have to mention that to Oberyn, meditation was hard for a child to actively take part in, doing so at such a young age was a fine skill for her to-

“What are you two doing?”

Dorea opened her eyes and cried out at her elder sisters question. “Obara you ruined it!” She whined, pointing an accusatory finger at the two SandSnakes. “I was doing so good and you messed me up!”

Obara and Tyene stood before you, both carrying weapons and on their way back to the palace from training. The pair had spotted you and Dorea, who was oddly quiet in their opinion, and decided to approach. 

Tyene smiled. “Messed what up?” She asked in a teasing voice.  

Dorea threw her hands in the air with a frustrated cry. “My mediation!”

“Meditation.” You corrected. “You two should join us. Calming the mind is a useful skill for warriors to have.”

Dorea threw her tiny arms around you and cried out. “No! I’m the only one who gets to mediate with you! Not them!”

Tyene nudged Obara with a grin. “What do you say? Shall we calm our minds?” You heard the subtle teasing in her tone and smiled. Though the sand snakes all thought kindly of you, you knew the eldest three thought little of you because you were a monk. A pacifist. A peacemaker who had no place among hot-blooded fighters like those in Dorne. 

“I’m afraid I will have to decline.” Obara answered with a tilt of her head. “Silly breathing exercises will not better my fighting, actual training will.”

The pair began to walk off as you pseudo-whispered to Dorea. “Don’t worry Dorea.” You knew that your ‘whisper’ was actually loud enough for them to hear. “I think they're just worried that you’re better at meditating than them.”

Dorea giggled into her hands and you winked. As their footsteps grew closer you looked behind you and smiled. 

“Oh? Have you decided to join us?”

Obara set her spear down before sitting on the grass, her sister following suit as they crossed their legs like yours. 

“We don’t have much planned for the rest of the day.” She responded coolly. “Besides, my father says it’s good to try new things.”

You closed your eyes and tried to hide the victorious grin growing on your face. 

Their competitive spirit made it all too easy to trick them. 

It was an hour later when you opened your eyes once more, the girls had fallen completely silent a few minutes prior, and if the heavy weight against you was what you thought it was. They weren't meditating. 

A loud snore rumbled from your left and you bit back a laugh. 

They were sleeping. 

Dorea’s head laid against your lap, mouth open and drooling against your trousers. Obara was slumped against your side, occasionally she’d murmur, nuzzle your shoulder, and then settle once more. Tyene laid sprawled out in the grass, one arm tucked under her head and another on her stomach. 

“So this is where you all have been.” Oberyn’s smooth voice broke the silence, you turned your head to see him and Ellaria standing at the entrance of the garden with a fond smile. 

“They wished to learn meditation.” You told him in a hushed tone, mindful of the sleeping sand snakes around you. “Though I’m not sure how useful the lesson ended up being.”

“Anybody who is able to calm Dorea is victorious.” Ellaria reached out a tucked a hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Trust me.”

“Yes well, I would have told you where we were but um-” You shifted slightly, which caused Obara to grumbled and leaned against you more. “I’m a bit stuck at the moment.”

Ellaria smiled, letting her slender fingers trail from her daughter face to yours. “It would seem so.”

Oberyn sat down on the grass, pulling his paramour down with him. They looked positively ethereal. Bronze skin looking almost gold under shine of the bright sun. 

Thoughts crossed your mind that you quickly pushed away. You were their friend, their advisor. Not their lover.

No matter how much you longed for it to be true. 

“They care for you greatly.” Oberyn moved Tyene’s head from the grass to his lap, his daughter curled against him without waking up. His eyes settled on you and you felt on display to the Red Viper and his lover. Like they could see into your very soul. 

“They see me as a stray.” You smiled at Dorea, who nuzzled her head against your lap with a sleepy smile. “Some little creature who needs to be protected.”

“They see you as family.” Ellaria correct you. “We all do.”

“You are a woman who controls the winds and rides a flying beast, large enough to eat a man whole if he pleases.” Oberyn let the rest of his body fall back onto the ground, eyes squinted and grinning up at you. “They know well of your strengths, and admire you for not using them on others. We all do.”

You blamed the flame under your skin on the sun rather his words. “I care for them as well, for all of you truthfully.” 

Ellaria leaned forward, tilted your head up before cradling your face on her smooth hands like you were made of glass. “We care for you as well, gentle monk.”

“I-” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I care for you much more than a simple advisor should.” 

She chuckled, letting her thumb run along your bottom lip. “I know.”

“We would go to war for you.” Oberyn spoke. His head sat on his hand as he watched Ellaria caress you. “Spill blood for you.”

You turned to him as his partner in life and love leaned forward to press her lips to your neck. “I would never ask that of any of you.”

“We know, sweet one.” She purred, her lips just inches away from you. “It is why we love you so much.”

Since you were young, meditation was the once way to empty your mind and find peace. But when the dornish woman in front of you pressed her lips to yours, your mind went blank faster than it ever has before. 

[obeymeluv]

Random Spooky Thing

Something spooky I thought about. I don’t know what really got me thinking about it besides spooky season and the fact that the boys are 5,000+ years old and have probably made secret friends/lovers with a few non-RAD humans over the years.

This is pre-RAD program, post-fall. Boys are still probably at odds with their new demon instincts or have just barely settled into them.

Trigger warning for scary situation. Namely: almost being a legit sacrifice for a demon summoning. 

I also have personal headcanons that the bros used to be Avatars in heaven, but for the trait opposite of their sin (Lucifer would be humility, Mammon would be charity/giving, Asmodeus would be love (I guess?), Satan doesn’t count because I don’t think he was in the Celestial Realm when it all happened (based on where I’m at in the game). Beel championed a good harvest/abundance. and Belphegor had the blessing of reinforcement/encouragement/inspiration/productivity)

Lucifer’s got unexpectedly long so this part will have Lucifer and Mammon only. I have to study for exams and stuff TT_TT

Lucifer:

The concept of being summoned by dark magic is very foreign and forceful. He hates it, and he hates that this is what his life is now

There was a certain beseeching vulnerability to humans when they prayed - it was soft and glowing and he misses it

This is a rough yank, like he’s nothing more than a petulant child that needs to be dragged around. Or worse, some dog. 

He spills out into the human world and it smells of smoke and brimstone and ground ingredients he’s starting to get familiar with 

Lucifer’s used to being intimidating in an angelic way, but he can feel the magic spill off of him here. He can feel his aura manifest into something dark and terrifying.

His eyes now glow in the dark; he can see a reflection of them in the humans’ eyes.

They give a very archaic, overdone address (”O’ great Lucifer...”) and he doesn’t even let them finish before he’s scoffing.

The fall may have broken his wings and shattered his reality, but he’s still fairly arrogant and ready to lash out

There’s a beautiful smell that makes his stomach ache something ungodly now that he’s a demon, and Lucifer realizes with abject horror that a wounded human is somewhere in this room

Celestial Realm or not, his eyes still have the ability to see human souls and intentions. There seems to be a lamb among these idiotic wolves

He sees that dagger rise, the muffled wail enough to pierce his ear and Lucifer snarls as he snatches that hilt in an iron grip

It’s enough to break the human’s grip and send his hands down the dagger, spilling rancid blood

“If you wish to summon me, do it with your own blood. Lay yourself before me and beg.” he says in a voice that is so grating and booming that it makes him flinch a little

His voice was never like this in the Celestial Realm and it makes him angry that it will never be angelically velvety again. Just something semi-twisted and possible of corruption

Perhaps because of the blood or the injustice, Lucifer throws out his wings and punishes the mortal for their insolence. Then the others who try to dogpile him and throw their books at him and shout words that have no meaning.

His grip now crushes things, and he forgets. Pinching is basically stabbing. A shove is basically a fracture.

You’re sobbing uncontrollably when he approaches where you’re being held and Lucifer realizes that he looks a sight. Truly frightening. He never had these murderous impulses as an angel and still surprises himself when he falls to them. They’re still so new!

“Be not afraid,” the words are comforting but fuzzy. They feel foreign on his tongue. He pets your hair. “I shall do you no harm.”

He has to remind himself that he’s so much stronger in this form, tugging and ripping at the rope while trying not to break your little limbs.  

You have this resigned trust, this hope, this faith that he will keep his word and it makes him miss humans. Makes him miss Lilith and how he���d catch her and Belphie sneaking around to watch them.

You ask him if he’s really Lucifer, like that Lucifer. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is. Instead he says, “I am the Morning Star.” and insists on taking you home.

He will guide you home, the bringer of light.

You hug him and it’s the first burst of warmth--genuine warmth--he’s felt since the fall. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

He’s called back by a greater force--Lord Diavolo--and prefers to forget the whole thing happened. That he ate people. That they almost hurt you.

He secretly checks in on you from time to time but doesn’t have the courage to talk to you again. 

Every time he looks at you, he’s emotionally drained for the rest of the day. He’s starting to understand what Lilith felt so strongly about and it just makes that gaping wound that much deeper.

He drowns his guilt in Demonus and damns his hypocrisy. 

Mammon

He hates being summoned because it burns like when he fell

It reminds him of his body screaming in pain as he adamantly tried to hold onto his Holy Weapons during the fall. His body converted during the fall and Holy Weapons are sheer agony for demons.

The burns on his hands were deep and tender and took days to heal. He doesn’t even remember how he broke his wing, but he knows it drags and its lame. It can’t unfold as well as the other one.

Being summoned just leaves a bad taste in his mouth because he disagrees with being cast out, in general. Seems like some of those angels were morally corrupt, not them! How could what he and the others did be considered wrong?! 

Mammon hates the fact that turning into a demon really ripped the veil off his eyes. He used to be a symbol of charity and giving, bringing joy to people, and now he just sees how nasty they are on the inside. Scummy, scummy people.

“What’s your business with the GREAT Mammon, hm? I’m a busy guy, ya know.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks disinterestedly around the room.

Dull souls, the lot of ‘em. Not a nice smell in the bunch! Some shiny bits and bobs he might take for his time, though.

Sometimes he bites his own tongue to try and fight off the demonic powers that converted him. To get his brain back on track. He doesn’t WANT to be so blunt and careless, so trained on shiny things. but it’s like he can’t help it!

It burns in his soul and sometimes he can hear his old self, his old ways, fizzling out like his wings as they disintegrated not long ago

The dumb humans start ranting about sacrifice and exchange and Mammon stops them cold, louder than them. It’s mostly the ‘older brother’ voice but he forgets that a demon is just scary to humans.

“Not really interested. What else ya got?”

No one expects that. He can tell. They take the thing off your head as if that will change his mind and something about the shininess of you catches his eye. Makes him feel kind of like a puppy.

Is it your soul? Your earrings? The genuine innocence of a human? How glittery your tears look?

He knocks them aside with his wings, stomps over to you, and picks you up (chair and all). 

They start yipping about how he technically accepted the deal and how he needs to do their bidding or grant them a favor. “Hang tight, sweets,” Mammon sets your chair down before pointing out every technicality on how the deal wasn’t finished and the terms weren’t agreed upon.

Technically they just summoned him; they didn’t complete a pact ritual

“I’m takin’ that--he points to you--just because I can!” Mammon laughs at the dumb little humans. “You guys didn’t do your homework! I’m the Avatar of Greed!”   

One of them tries to sneak around behind him and stab you (like that will change anything?!) and Mammon notices. He grabs the one in front of him by the face, throws him into the one by you, and just starts swinging

He doesn’t kill them, but he DOES raid their pockets of shiny things and interesting things. 

Mammon takes the knife, the weird clasps off their ensembles, and breaks the chair to set you free. Debates on taking the screws, but tosses them over his shoulder (not good enough)

As an act of good will, you’re recruited to pillage this lame location they picked

He gets you home with a spell, some kind of homing magic, and just stands there looking at you quietly. He didn’t really look after humans like Belphie and Lilith did so he’s not sure what to do

The urge to comfort is strong but the genteel pat is corrupted by the desire to feel your earring between his fingers. Some guttural demon noise of glee comes out of him and it makes him embarrassed. He never used to make noises like that...

You unhook your earrings with a tentativeness that reminds him of the humans who left offerings at his alter, fretting over if they were good enough and wondering what they would bring.

You fold his big, tan fingers over the earrings and Mammon holds onto them for a while after he finds his way back to the Devildom. It’s his first gift as a demon.

He ignores getting yelled at and the little brothers pestering him about why he smells good, telling him that they’re hungry. and all their other little gripes. 

Mammon never goes looking for you after that, trying to fill the ache in his soul with time and money and fame (oddly?) but he thinks of you often. He keeps your earrings in a special box at the front of his magic-locked hoard room. On his bad days, he’ll go sit in that empty room of knickknacks, open the box, and stare. 

He picks up the little things, careful not to break them with his nails or strength. “You’re one silly human, aren’t you?” he smiles at the twinkling jewelry.   

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

| Part 12 |

You blink. It’s quick. It’s an innate reaction that everyone has. You don’t even realize that you blinked. You don’t recall blinking long enough for him to be on top of you and have a hand carefully wrapped around your neck. Did you blink? There are tears running down your face. Maybe you attempted to blink back the tears. Maybe he’s just really fast. That would explain how he’s able to evade authorities.

He’s blurry in your vision and you’re afraid to blink. Afraid that you’ll miss the last sight you’ll ever have before he touches you. Is your chipped ceiling really going to be the last thing you’ll ever see? Is he the last thing you’ll ever see? It’s almost funny. And you think if you weren’t staring into his eyes, you would erupt in a fit of giggles.

Maybe this is a joke. Maybe he’s trying to play the big, bad villain. Maybe he’s doing it on purpose to scare you. You don’t know him well enough to know his type of humor. You don’t know him well enough at all. Every interaction was surface level, deeper for you but not for him. You reached out to a stranger because he showed an ounce of human decency. You begged to talk to him. Begged for him to come over. You threw yourself at him with open arms. You welcomed him into your home and bought him gummies. You gave him your leftovers. You gave him a fucking skin care routine. You shared your blankets. You shared your feelings. You shared your stupid, little theory. A fucking joke all of it is. Maybe this is what you get. You wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s bound to end up crushed- or in this case decayed. You’re going to die here and it’s going to be your fault. You had a chance to go to the authorities- multiple chances- and here you are. A hand wrapped around your neck as a choker. It’s a sick accessory that does what it’s supposed to- it makes it hard for you to breathe.

You never really thought things through and look where you ended up- pinned on the couch by a friend. The word friend feels wrong to say now, but if you call him what he is- who he is- you think you’ll start to cry more than you already are.

You never thought where you were placed in his life. You had this sort of distorted thought that if he was Shigaraki- that he would still care for you. But you were silly. You were dumb. You were someone he didn’t care about. He had other people he cared about- people that he had to go back to and protect. That must be who his roommates were. It had to be. They were the ones involved with him- involved with the League of Villains. He was a leader. He had to protect those with the same goals, ambitions, and ways of thinking. He has to protect the ones who stand behind him. You’re nothing more than an obstacle now.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” you say in a broken whisper. “Tell me that you’re trying to scare me.” His eyes grow wide and the red that once looked like precious jewels are now glaring daggers, they’re ominous and hold something sinister in them. You never thought he could look so scary. “Tomura—”

“Shut. Up,” he hisses, eyes narrowing into slits.

He holds so much hostility in your words and you shut your mouth, clamping it shut and you bite the inner part of your lips, digging your teeth until it stings and you let go. You have to ground yourself right now. You can’t afford to spiral. You go through multiple scenarios in your head but none end up with you alive at the end. He’s quicker than you, stronger, and all he needs to do it touch all five fingers to your skin and poof- you’re gone. You wonder if it’ll hurt.

“Who knows?” His words are sharp.

“No one.” His eyes narrow and his thumb and three fingers press tighter into your throat and it hurts. “I promise no one else knows.” His breathing ragged and the hand keeps pressing itself deeper. “Tomura,” you whisper, “you’re hurting me.”

You hear him take a sharp gasp and his lips curl into an ugly sneer. “Shut,” his voice cracks and you wince, “up.”

You think you see his eyes water and for just a quick second, you forget what he’s doing to you, you forget the pressure that’s around your neck and you move your hand to gently stroke his cheek. You’re able to place your hand on top of his burning skin, your fingertips moving lightly over him. You think you say something to him, your mouth moving faster than your brain, you think you tell him not to cry but even then you can’t be too sure. He recoils away from you, one of his nails tugs across your skin and it stings.

Time is moving again, time is all you have right now. Reality sets in and he’s no longer on top of you, pressing his knee into your thigh. You choke as you try to gasp for air, your own hand coming up and wrapping around where his touch lays imprinted on your skin. You sit up and suddenly your instincts over. You scramble off of the couch and there’s a harsh thud on the floor where you fall on your bum. You hiss and stand immediately, backing away from where he sits on the opposite end of the couch with knees pulled up and a hand touching the spot where you caressed him. Your eyes are trained on him as you move away, and through sheer bad luck, you knee collides with the coffee table and you double over, teeth shown in wince and a hand covering your bruising skin.

He looks at you and his eyes widen and a hand jerks in reaction but it slowly curls until it hardens into a fist. Your eyes scan the coffee table and you pick up a decorative piece of a white duck. It’s a silly thing you bought impulsively while out with friends, it was cute, you cooed, immediately putting it in your basket and regretting it when you came home. But now it’s the only defense you have against Tomura- against Shigaraki. You hold tight in your hands, it’s a piece of a glass in the shape of a duck and you’re holding onto it with shaky hands like it’s a weapon.

You can’t fight him. He’s him. You can’t ever win against him. You don’t you could even hit him. He had his hand on you and when he faltered for a second you reached out to him. A small sob escapes from you and the duck trembles.

“Put it down,” he orders, standing up and any hint of emotion you thought you saw is gone. His eyes are cold and calculated and when he takes a step towards you, you take one back.

“You’ll hurt me if I do,” you counter. Your hands grow slick and your take a trembling breath and the tears have dried by now but you’re still shaking and taking rasping breaths.

He sighs and rolls his shoulders. “No one else knows I’m here.”

You don’t miss the way he avoids your accusation. You don’t know if he wants you to answer of not, but you shake your head anyways, careful to never let your eyes leave him.

He’s a lot more threatening than you’ve ever seen him, both in real life and in media. Your eyes flicker to his hands that stay hovered over his sides and you wonder how many he’s killed. “So are you,” your voices catches, “are you Shigaraki?”

He steps carefully towards you and close in on yourself, pulling the duck closer and you wish you could turn invisible. “Yeah, I am.” His voice is rough and calloused like his hands. “What are you going to do now?”

“I could ask you the same,” you whisper. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it by now. You’re still alive. Maybe you could- You can’t do anything. You can’t wait for help. No one knows you had someone over. No one knows that he’s here. You’re going to die alone. No, that’s not right. You’re going to die and Shigaraki- or Tomura- is going to watch you turn to ash. At least you won’t die alone is the only comforting thing running across your mind.

“Put it down,” he tells you once again, taking another step towards you.

“No.” You hold the porcelain tighter and feel the grooves of the feathered wings on the pads of your fingers. “You—”

“Listen to me.” The corner of your lips twitch and you pull your mouth into a thin line. “You’re going to put that down and you’re going to listen to what I’m going to say.”

“I’m-” your voice breaks- “I’m not going to put it down. You- You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Your voice is shrill, and another tear slips down your face.

“You’re being irrational.” He takes another step and you take one away from him. “Now, just give me the damn duck.”

“No!” The duck trembles in your hand and you almost lose your grip on it.

“For fucks sake,” he hisses out, dragging a hand down his face. “What the fuck are you gonna do? Tell me? You’re going to hit me? Is that it? Are you going to fight me?”

The weapon in your hand lowers and your lip trembles. “To-Tomura, stop,” you whine, You squint your eyes and your vision gets bleary, “stop it.”

“Or what?”

You falter and your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land. You don’t have an answer to that. What could you threaten him with? A duck? The loss of friendship? He doesn’t care for you. He made that apparent when his hand was around you. You can’t even scream for help. You doubt anyone would listen. You doubt you could even utter a sound before he decides to finish the job.

“Or you’ll do what? Go on, say it.”

“Why Tomura, why are you doing this,” you choke out.

“Be specific.”

You close your eyes tight and shake your head. “I can’t,” you break out, “I can’t,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he tells you, his voice light and calm, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him because you know that if you do, you’ll drop to your knees. “Now just come here.” His voice is steady and it’s like he’s talking to a cornered animal and you realize with a sinking heat, that’s the exact predicament that you’re in.

“Bullshit,” you whisper back.

“I reacted badly.” You can hear him take steps closer to you and your heart is hammering against your chest and blood is rushing and heating your body. You can’t stop the shaking, can’t stop the sweat that slides down your back and makes your palms clammy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You’re hurt. Emotionally and with the dull, throbbing pain on your neck, you’re hurt physically. You wonder if he’s left bruises.

“I didn’t want to.” It’s so honest and true and when you look up, he’s closer than before and you move away from him, shuffling backwards as you hold your makeshift weapon in front of you, holding it as if it were a knife and not rounded porcelain that brought you joy and regret.  A sob escapes past your lips and you have bite down hard on your bottom lip.

“We’re friends,” you hiss.

“I need you to understand what I’m doing.” He sighs and when he flexes his hands you flinch and move away from him. “I’m—”

“What you’re doing is killing!” You say the words through clenched teeth and you lean forward. “You had your hand on my neck!” The words are sharp and come out drenched in poison.

“It’s a war! People die in a war!” His arm slices through the air.

“You kidnapped a child!” You argue back, and you fear that if you hold on any tighter to the porcelain in your hands it’ll crack. “How do you rationalize that? Tell me!”

“He was muzzled by so called heroes!”

“So then what? Are you going to kidnap every little troubled kid and make them kill heroes?”

“I’m trying to change society!”

“Jesus Tomura,” you throw your hands up and grip the glass tighter, “is it society that you hate or is it heroes?”

“It doesn’t matter! They’re all fucking intertwined! Why the hell do you care? What? You’re a little fan of heroes?” His eyes are narrowed and teeth are bared, his right hand curls into a curl and he’s never looked so intimidating. You take it back- none of the pictures online do him justice that how he looks right now standing in front of you.

“That’s- Do not turn this on me!” You point the duck at him and it’s almost comical. “Heroes aren’t great, okay! Is that what you want to hear? Heroes are fucked and corrupt, okay? But at least they save people!” He’s your friend and he’s looking at you with dismissal and annoyance. It makes your chest hurt.

“They have children fighting their battles!”

“You kill,” you hiss.

“Not all the time,” he sighs, hunching over and running a hand through his hair. You swallow the lump in your throat when you meet his eyes. But then hurt takes over. “Just when necessary.”

“Oh, well that just changes everything!” You put your hands on your hips. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Shit, why don’t I go out and get you a fucking cake!” Your voice is hysterical; the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and the churning in your stomach is starting to feel like too much. You take a step towards him but when he narrows your eyes, you retract.

“You’re being irrational,” he laments.

“I get to be irrational Tomura! You lied to me!” You can taste acid in your mouth and you have to do everything in your power to push it down.

“I didn’t lie, I just never told you.”

You groan and shake your head. “Tom- Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Your vision grows blurry and when you narrow your eyes, tears fall and burn their way down your face.

He stares at you like your dumb and it makes your face grow warmer than it already is. “What did you want me to say? Did you want me to come to you and tell you who I was? Look at how you’re acting in front of me now that you know.”

“You had a hand on my neck!”

“Shut up!” You flinch and he grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, never taking his eyes off of you. “How was I supposed to tell you? Did you want me to tell you over a cup of tea? Should I have disintegrated something in front of you to prove it?”

“I don’t know,” you wail. “I just,” you take a shaky breath, “hate this.” You turn your eyes away from him and frown. “We were friends Tomura. Why couldn’t you just tell me or hint at it. Why did you-” your voice cracks and you cringe in on yourself- “You could have told me. I let you inside. I- We were friends,” you plead, bringing the duck close to your chest. Your eyes widen when he’s closer than he was last time.

“Were?”

Your brows furrow and then fall. Your throat is sore and the grip around the decorative piece has loosened. “Why couldn’t you tell me Tomura?”

His gaze hardens and you take another step back. “Heroes made society. It’s shaped by them. That kid I kidnapped? He was muzzled like a dog. You think every hero is good- everyone wants to be a fucking hero. A quirk is automatically labeled as villainous if it’s destructive or takes over someone’s free will but when it’s cute, it’s praised. You have try-hard heroes. You ever wonder why there are villains?”

“That’s- Fine! Look, they shouldn’t have muzzled him but that doesn’t excuse you kidnapping a child! What were you going to do with him anyways? Make him join you? And if he didn’t? What then?” You spit out. “Look, society has its issues, most people will agree on that, but that doesn’t give you the right to burn cities to the ground! Heroes aren’t great, but damnit it Tomura,” you cry, “this isn’t about them, this is about us!”

He takes another step towards you and you back away, grunting when your back hits the wall. “I’m going to fix society.”

You shake your head. It’s getting harder to breath and you feel like you’re being choked all over again. “You’re going to burn it to the ground.”

“It’ll be fixed.”

“So then what? Are you going to be a king then? Where does that leave those who go against you?”

His eyes narrow and all air escapes from your lungs. “Dead.”

You’re against the wall and he’s only a foot away from you. Your throat is raw and you want it to go back to how it was before. “So what now Shigaraki?” His shoulders tense when you call out to him. Your grasp on the decorative item loosens and you dig it deeper in your chest. “Are… Are you going to—”

“I could.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Your comes out soft, if it weren’t silent in the room, he would have missed your question.

He steps closer to you and the back of your ankle taps against the wall. You’re trapped. You suck in a breath and you watch him as he grows closer. His hand hovers and in your grasp, the duck that you held onto like it was the only thing grounding you, fades into a million grains of dust. Your hands are empty and you watch dust pool between the two of you. His leans his face in and his breath fans across your face it smells faintly of fruit snacks. You stare at him and soon he becomes a blur and you want to sob.

You let out a yelp when he grabs you face, nails digging into your plush cheeks. Tears slide down and stain his finger tips and he frowns. His nails drag against your skin and his hand leaves your face.

He steps away from you and you slide down the wall, your hands covering your already shut eyes and your teeth dig into your bottom lip. You cradle your head and bring your knees close to your body and your arms snake around your legs.

You hear steps fade away from you. You whimper, hugging yourself tighter and then a door slams close. You shake and cry on the floor and it feels like you’ve been sitting there for ages with how stiff you feel. When you uncurl from yourself, your eyes are heavy and you’re exhausted. You try to rise on your legs but find that you are unable to; they shake too hard, they tremble at the slightest hint of movement and you collapse back onto the floor in a pitiful pile. Your hands come in contact with the dust pile and you flinch away from it. You cry as if it has already begun to eat at your skin, shake it off of your hand like you’re afraid that it will eat at your skin, that you’ll hands will and body will soon be nothing but dust that’s indistinguishable from the rest.

Slowly, you rise from the floor and are barely able to make it to the couch where you collapse. You grab the pillow he flung at you earlier and you bite into it and you break.

Your cries are muffled through the pillow and you wheeze for air, your face grows hot and tears wet your skin and the pillow. You shake and wail, digging your nails into the fabric at a poor attempt to rip it apart, to let the feelings that have been brewing inside of you for so long, to finally free themselves, but the most you can do it sob and clutch at the pillow like a child clutches to their toy on a dreary night. You lay there until your tears have dried and the sobs that wrack through your body have turned to nothing but shivers. You whimper late into the night, you heave until no tears drip, and there’s a pounding in your head that makes it feel like you’re being split in half. You fall asleep cold and heavy, you fall asleep with agony coursing through your body and with whatever God above taking pity on you- you fall into a dreamless slumber.

Tagged:

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@maxinekotodama @avada-kedavra-1998

[darth-schism]

Evidence to Suggest that Luke was NOT all that he seemed in TLJ

Luke Skywalker may have isolated himself because of his guilt/depression. But I also believe he did it for practical reasons, and that his “totally given up” act, was just that, an act. Evidence for this Head-cannon/interpretive take:

1. He made a map to his location

Not only that, but it was so specific, it was literally called “The Map to Skywalker.” The only way it would have gotten a name as tailored as that is if someone else had found him before Rey, or, if he told people about it himself. In any event, to whatever varying degree, Luke wanted to be found and/or influence the galaxy around him.

One piece of the map was  tossed around to all sorts of corners of the galaxy, while the rest of it was entrusted to R2D2. 

2. This was a deliberate combo to serve two different purposes

          - Keep Snoke distracted: The entirety of TFA was Kylo and Snoke obsessing over Luke’s location. Their preoccupation with it was evident and, instead of letting them focus on relentlessly attacking the New Republic, Luke gave them a reason to go on wild goose chases. Consider that Snoke doesn’t go ‘all in’ on trying to destroy the Resistance until after he realizes he lost the race to get to Skywalker. Which shows just how much stock he had put into that singular Jedi. What’s more, even if they had succeeded, they’d only have a useless fraction with no reference as to where in the galaxy Luke’s secret location actually was.      

          - Meanwhile, R2D2 would also play the role of a “given up/powered down” hero: But we see that, soon as the coast is clear, and some plot heroes arrive with the map, he assessed the situation, turned on, and sent them right to Skywalker. I think it’s safe to say that R2D2 was merely in ‘sleep mode,’ as opposed to ‘shut down.’ However, despite all this, the element of being powered down/unassuming was still crucial because... 

3. Snoke made it abundantly clear that when he found Skywalker, he’d blow up the entire landmass he was found, or even theorized to be, on

Luke would never put a population of innocents at risk of complete annihilation just because someone might to recognize him at a local market. So it’s no wonder he chose a place as isolated as he did (On top of that, considering his critical stance towards the Jedi Order by 28ish ABY, it wouldn’t necessarily be a heartbreak to him if the island did end up getting destroyed, or one to anyone else really, because of how obscure/unknown it was...or so he convinced himself).

4. He was picking his battles

If Luke Skywalker wanted to be found. Then why was he so dismissive of Rey? There’s no solid evidence here (aside from the whole existence of the map scheme), but I think there’s good reason to believe that Luke’s instant stand-offish behavior is one of caution and assessment not dissimilar how how Yoda and Kenobi put up an initial façade when they were discovered in exile (but more on that later). In any event, this approach would give him the means to offer personalized help to those who ended up on his doorstep. It honestly didn’t take Luke long to go from tossing his father’s lightsaber, to offering Rey the three lessons she needed to understand the force better. Although I believe Rey’s visit to Luke was far different than what others had probably been but (again) more on that later.

5. He was able leave anytime he wanted

The very clear image of Luke’s submerged X-Wing in the ocean painted a picture of cut ties, and a “no going back” stance. However, it wasn’t the first time that starfighter had been at the bottom of a water bed, and clearly it wasn’t the last. I’m inclined to believe that this is another part of Luke’s deliberate presentation of a hero who had lost all hope. But all speculation aside, there was nothing to physically stop Luke from leaving that island whenever he wanted. There’s nothing to say that he didn’t break form/character operate to find a way to undermine Snoke further.

6. He was actively protecting others close to him

There was a reason Luke getting Grogu at the end of Season 2 of The Mandalorian caused such a stir in Disney, and caused Kennedy to go for Faverau’s throat. All “who’s idea was who’s” arguments aside. At the end of the day it created two possible outcomes for this element of the Star Wars franchise: Either Grogu died in Kylo’s attack. Or there were survivors. Since killing the money making Baby Yoda isn’t necessarily on Disney’s to do list, it’s a reasonable bet that he survives the slaughter (unless he’s returned to Din’s side before Kylo goes ballistic, in which case he avoids it all together). But even if that does happen, this theory still holds a little water). Luke lying low, and operating in secret may have been the only way he was keeping himself, the galaxies citizens, and his few remaining students from getting hit with an orbital strike. 

7. He was never fully disconnected from the force.

Perhaps, somewhat disconnected, but it’s clear that Luke hasn’t cut himself off from the force as much as he, perhaps, wanted to admit. Luke is still able to effortlessly summon a weapon, keep control of the duel between himself and Rey, and gently lower his body to the ground when he loses his footing. Despite his stance on using/taking ownership of the force in TLJ, it seems as though Luke kept just enough around so that he could still fight. This theory is more optimistically minded than some of the others, but I still can’t help but think that Luke kept these reserves of power ready, because he already had to use them more than once during his supposed isolation.

8. Rey’s visit was different than the others who had come before.

“You went straight into the Dark. It offered you something you needed, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.” 

“I've seen this raw strength only once before, in Ben Solo. It didn't scare me enough then. It does now.”

Other plot heroes/adventurers may have come, gone, or even convinced Luke to help them in secret. So assuming all, or even some, of the above is true, then that means Luke wasn’t just pushing to dismiss Rey, but also disillusion her. I think this is because Rey wasn’t there to get help with a specific mission, rescue, etc, but there to have Luke become the public symbol of hope again. And we’ve already listed the reasons why this couldn’t happen. On top of that, this push was done in a way that directly conflicted with all the “none theorized” reasons Luke had isolated himself. Luke knew he couldn’t accommodate this. He sensed the darkness in Rey. He sensed her connection to Kylo. In many ways his lessons also doubled as a means to properly evaluate Rey, and confirm his suspicions. In any event, all of this brought up an element of his isolation that no one else knew. He already had the, half truth, story as to what happened to his temple well rehearsed. But it was Rey’s visit that dragged out his greatest regret, which was his near attempt to take Ben’s life, due to both the mind bending fear Snoke had manipulated into palce, and the hypocritical, and self destructive Jedi philosophies that had been drilled in to his head. This was the final straw that made him want to destroy the Jedi texts. But it was also the push he needed to find inner peace, and think of the means to make one last public appearance, without endangering anyone.  

9. In no interpretation is Luke an attempt child killer 

This is more of a bonus point in nature. I think so many people were caught off guard by the narrative choice Luke undertook in this part of the film, that it painted the whole ordeal in a far more unfavorable light than it actually was. For starters: Ben was no child. He was 23 years old when he fell to the darkside. Luke was saw the images of planetary destruction, and the deaths of friends and family alike at the hands of an adult. But even at that, Luke’s ligthsaber had already lowered, and his face expressing that of shame and sadness, when Ben glances over, and decides to take up his lightsaber, and make the first strike. Luke doesn’t even ignite his lightsaber in response until after Ben swings it. The influence Snoke had over Ben, and the mental attack he lured Luke into suffering, to make this moment come to pass cannot be understated.   

 - This also means that Luke’s isolation lasted only 7 years. Not twenty, not even 10. Just 7. Which is less than half the time both Yoda and Obi Wan imposed on themselves.

10. He was following in the footsteps of his masters

I think Luke’s response to trauma is a little unfair in some ways. Obi Wan and Yoda witnessed genocide, and imposed exile on themselves for twenty years. Now, in film, we know that Obi Wan, while playing the part of a delusional hermit, worked to protect Luke as he grew up on Tatooine, and that Yoda, playing the part of a silly swamp kook, did...something...on Dagobah (?), waited for Luke to grow up so he could train him for a few weeks at most (?). 

Those are two pretty limited things, and yet they don’t catch near as much flack for “abandoning the galaxy to the Empire” as TLJ Luke does, after he also witnessed slaughter, and went into isolation for only 7 years. But, of course, we know Obi Wan did more during his time in the desert, and that Yoda did more during his time in the swamp. So why can’t Luke have also done more while on his island? Everything about the parallels here point to Luke, despite his own misgivings, applying what he learned from his master. All three Jedi isolated themselves because of their personal tragedies. All three greatly reduced their presence in the galaxy. But all three had no choice, and all three still did what they could despite their circumstances.    

11. Luke may have been overcome with grief. But he hadn’t truly changed

Now, I fully admit that this is a very optimistic way of looking at things. But some of these points also have more weight to them than others. I also cannot stress enough that even though I think some of what Luke was doing was an act, I also know it was equally proportional to the very real, emotional reasons, and struggles he faced. I also definitely do NOT think Kennedy/Johnson meant for any of these possible theories to have any validity to them. But with how they are presented, they also can’t be disproven. 

If Favreau doesn’t formally put the sequels in it’s own little pocket universe, then I really hope he takes the opportunity to make something like ^the above^ happen. It could easily be established in one to two episodes in a live action show. Lots of things could be done to make the sequels a more bearable set of movies to watch. And as much as I’m worried that hoping for this is simply too optimistic, at least now there is a justifiable interpretive take that has both in film evidence to support, and a lack of otherwise to refute.  

At the end of the day (and as usual) the important part here is to see that Luke hadn’t given up. Struggling, disillusioned, forced into a tough spot, willingly keeping himself scarce, etc. All bearable. But knowing he hadn’t given up is super important to the character and fanbase, so hopefully we get something that makes that cannon. In any facet really.  

AND IT WOULD GET MARK HAMILL BACK ON SET GODAMNIT! XD

*Reblogged with new gifs and information

[mortyvongola2-0]

Proof of Strength

Chapter 2: Overwhelming Scent

Pairing: Alpha! Kylo Ren x Omega! Reader

Genre: multichapter, a/b/o fic, slowburn, 18+

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: sexual themes, dirty talk, grinding, strong language, a/b/o dynamics

Read it on AO3

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When he pulled away, he said nothing, didn’t even spare you a second glance, just turned toward your door and made to leave. You started to crumple to the floor, your legs shaking and weak, heart in your throat. He cleared his throat and you turned your head so quickly you might’ve given yourself whiplash. A gasp tore from your throat and you reached out. In his large hand was a vial of your suppressing steroids. It took all of your strength to stand and approach him order to take it back.

Your efforts were thwarted, hopes crushed, as you watched him close his fist around the glass vial and smash it, the suppressing liquid, no longer contained, dripped from his once more open palm and onto the floor. He dropped the bits of glass and made sure to crunch them beneath his boot as he made his way out. When the doors shut behind him you began to panic. What had he done? One of those vials cost you half a month’s worth of credits, and you always made sure to stalk pile. You ran toward your bedside drawer, where you kept your stash, and opened the cloth bag you stored them in. A sob crawled its way into your chest. He had destroyed all of your vials, every last one, and you wouldn’t be able to afford any more for another two months!

 A tightness settled in your chest and you felt like hurling. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you stood on your wobbly legs and erratically ran toward the doors. Your hands met the cold dura-steel and you paused. What could you do? For all you knew he had crushed your last vial, right in front of you. You smacked your head against the metal. You only had about three days before you needed your next injection, and if you didn’t take it you only had three more before your heat would start up. There had to be something you could do. “Kriff,” you grumbled, the tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “Kriff, kriff, kriffffffffff!”

 You kicked the door in your frustration, it didn’t budge, only made a loud clang as you fell back and gripped your foot in pain. The lights in your quarters flickered as you let out an angry shout. Your temper tantrum continued further into the night cycle, only stopping after your throat went sore with grumblings. What could you do? You would be stripped of your title, possibly tortured, more than likely killed once you were found out. Your toes ached, and you hit your head against the wall behind your bed. A thought struck you. You were on a ship full of alphas, so there had to be some suppression herbs somewhere. Someone had to have some you could borrow, or steal, and use on yourself until you could figure something else out…right?

 Determined, you rolled off of your bed and headed out of your room. The hallways were mostly empty, the skeleton night crew keeping the ship running while most of everyone else slept. You walked down the hall, trying to think of some alphas you knew. There was Captain Phasma, General Hux, and the Commander, all of which were out of the question, you weren’t really friends with any alphas, having done your best to keep them from scenting you. Lee and Avery were betas, most of your subordinates were betas as well. You wanted to groan again.

 “Oh,” you heard someone say and then call out your name. You looked up and saw Lee’s fling, Vanya, standing to your left. “What’re you doing up so late?”

 “Couldn’t sleep,” you replied.

 “Oh, I see,” she muttered. The air between the two of you was awkward, but you didn’t care. She adjusted her stance to cover her chest with her arms and cleared her throat. An odd scent hit your nose and you narrowed your eyes at her. It was a familiar scent, but you weren’t quite sure what it was. “Well, um, I’m working night shift tonight, so I better get back to it.”

 “Wait,” you called, and she blinked at you. You took one more deep breath in to try and identify the smell but failed. “What perfume are you wearing?”

 “Perfume?” Her head tilted to the side and you nodded. She lifted her wrist up to her nose and smelled it before she let out a soft laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not wearing a perfume. Its my herbs, silly.”

 “Herbs?” You blinked at her in surprise. “You’re an alpha? I had no idea.”

 “Yeah,” she brought a hand up to rub the back of her neck sheepishly. “I prefer to keep it that way. People tend to treat you differently if you have a designation like I do.” You could understand that and so you nodded to her. “I’m impressed that you could smell the herbs though, most betas don’t even notice.”

 “I have a strong nose,” you muttered. “You wouldn’t happen to have any extra herbs, would you? I uh, have a new programmer who needs them, and he’s not sure where to get any and is freaking out about it.”

 “Well, I don’t have anymore right now but you can always get some from medical or your commanding officer. Did they not supply you with any for your subordinates?”

 “No.”

 “Ah, then whoever you report to must have some. Be sure to let your cadet know, I need to get back to work.”

 “Alright, thank you Vanya,” you said and gave her a tight smile, your nerves on high alert.

 “No problem,” she said and waved back to you as she walked in the opposite direction.

 You had two options it seemed, raid medical and steal from them, or risk your life and career stealing from your favorite ginger General, as he was your commanding officer. You brought one of your hands up and rubbed at your temples to fend off the growing headache. With either option, if you were caught, you risked demotion, but if you stole from Hux and he was in a foul mood you risked death. You felt like crying again. If only Vanya had had some extras.

 The rest of the night passed slowly and the next day you went to work without any sleep and just as out of options as you had been before. You couldn’t decide what to do, and the cycles passed by without you taking any action. By the fifth day, one day before your heat could begin, you were nothing but stressed and panic. You hadn’t slept in four days, hadn’t eaten anything in three, and refused to drink anything but caff. Not only were your colleagues concerned for your health but so were your subordinates.

 “Lieutenant.”

 You jumped, startled out of your pacing, and faced the very man who had caused your poor state of being. “C-commander,” you stuttered, your mouth suddenly felt incredibly dry and you took a sip of your now cold mug of caff. “How can I help you sir?”

 He flexed his fingers, the leather creaking with his movements. His helmeted head tilted to the right. “You look rather stressed,” he commented.

 You grit your teeth. “I am currently working on a very important project.”

 “I see, you must be busy,” he gave a slight nod and you narrowed your eyes. What was he up to? He reached for his belt and you flinched, thought the worst, and prepared to be sliced in half by his saber. But he hadn’t grabbed his weapon, instead he grabbed a small vial from his pouch, it was filled with a familiar milky liquid. Your lips parted and you sucked in a breath. “I’ll just have to hold onto this until you have the time for it then.”

 “No!” You paused and shook your head, forcing yourself to calm down a bit. “Please, Commander I-I, that is-“ a hollowed noise escaped his vocoder and you watched his shoulders shift the slightest bit with it. He was making fun of you and your blood boiled. “Give it back,” you demanded.

 “Is the little omega frustrated?”

 “Wha-? Of course!”

 He stared at you, or at least you thought he was, and took a few steps closer to you. Again, he caused your body to go into fight or flight. Your omega instincts said to flee but your training said to fight. The two options were swirling in your mind, fighting against one another. By the time he was close enough you could see your breath fog against his helmet, you decided to fight. You brought one of your legs up in an attempt to knock his knees out from under him, but he easily caught your leg. Kylo pulled it up against his hip and pressed himself flush against you. You almost fell backward, his added weight and only having one leg to stand on caused you to begin to lose your balance. But his other hand pressed against your back and pushed you against him in kind.

 A shiver crawled down your spine. You’d never been this close to anyone before, let alone someone so powerful. His scent began to overwhelm your senses, and you almost whined. He had a strong grip on your calf and you weakly attempted to break it free. You couldn’t think, your heart was pounding in your chest from fear and excitement. He smelled of leather and spices. Ren brought the edge of your helmet down to the crook of your neck like he had days before, and again you craned your head away from him to give him better access. Being so close, when he chuckled this time, you could feel the vibrations in his chest and almost hear the voice of the man beneath the vocoder. “So pliant,” he stated in a lower tone. “It’s cute.”

 Your heart hiccupped. It was almost like you were paralyzed; your body too willing to obey your mind. But did you really want to leave this embrace? He smelled so good, and your stomach was in flutters. Your toes curled and you shut your eyes as you refrained from letting out a noise. His oversized hand moved from the middle to the small of your back, and you leaned into the hold. Your brain kept screaming grab the vial and run but your body cried stay and fuck just a bit louder. “Why are you doing this,” you breathed.

 “Because you’re mine,” he growled. His grip tightened on your black and on your calf, you leaned your head back and gasped as he ground his hips against yours. “If you want the vial, come and take it.”

 He stepped back from you, letting go of your leg and your back, you plopped to the ground with a very gracious “oof” and stared wide eyed up at him. Your body was still going haywire and it was incredibly difficult for your brain to comprehend what he’d said. Again, he was leaving you without a glance back. Only once he’d left the room, the blast doors closed behind him, were you able to break out of your stupor. Kylo’s scent was still all over you, your clothes and hair had soaked it up like a perfume. Shakily, you used your desk to get back on your feet and rubbed at your tired eyes. “Take it? How am I supposed to do that?”

 The rest of your workday continued, whether you wanted it to or not. You felt like your brain was melting and you were self-conscious about having the Commander’s scent all over you. It was obvious what people would think when they smelled it, and just the idea of having sex with Kylo Ren made you dizzy with fear and desire. You’d never even seen his real face before, so you chocked up your body’s response to your omega instincts. What else could it be? After all, you knew nothing about him, had never spoken with him before, and fear his wrath just like everyone else.

 “Yoohoo, anyone in there?”

 “Ah!” You jumped, adrenaline tingling through your body as you turned around to face your friend. “Avery, you almost made me drop my datapad.”

 “Sorry,” she giggled as she leaned against the doorframe. “I did knock. Not my fault you’re not paying attention.”

 “I suppose that’s fair,” you muttered and placed your work device back on your desk. “What is it? Is there a problem?”

 “No, I just came to tell you that it’s quittin’ time.”

 “Oh.”

 “Everything alright? You’ve been pretty off for the past few days,” she asked, concerned. She moved further into your office and placed a hand to your forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever, but you look pale.”

 “I’m just a bit home sick is all,” you tried and waved your hand to try to brush her off. She snorted in response to your statement.

 “As if, you can’t lie to me. I know you hate that junk heap. Come on,” she pleaded. A frown marred her pretty face and you sighed, hating having to lie to her. Avery was genuinely concerned for you, and you felt guilty. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything.”

 You bit your lip and stood from your desk. “The Commander is, well, he’s seen fit to torture me lately.”

 “Really?” The taller woman placed a hand to her chin in thought. “Do you think it has anything to do with you almost running into him the other day?”

 “I believe so,” you responded and walked around your desk. A sigh escaped you and you gripped the door frame to steady yourself, feeling lightheaded and tired. “Let’s drop it and go get some dinner. Today’s your favorite, right?”

 “Yeah, tonight’s meal is a specialty from my home planet,” she cheered and sped her walk to catch up to you. Avery placed her arm around your shoulders and began to drag you along with her. “Lets find Lee and go!”

  You smiled up at her and nodded. A feeling of dread began to spread through your chest as you thought of how little time you’d have left with your friends if you didn’t get that vial back from Kylo Ren.

[stardustkenobi]

Toska

Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence 

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been awhile but I’m hoping to find somewhat of a regular content posting schedule within the coming weeks now that school is officially done for the semester. This is part one of a series that I’ve been planning out for quite a few months :) 

Toska [tuss-kAH] — noun. A sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without a specific cause; a longing with nothing to long for.

“I won’t accept Imperial Credits, Max. Not again.” 

The elderly junkboss looked at you through narrowed, beady black eyes as the useless commerce was pushed in your direction once more. “This is all I can give you for today.” 

Your expression mimicked his with slightly more of an edge before sliding the credits right back. “I’ve just provided you with my largest haul to date — probably your largest acquisition in months. I know you have the means to pay well and you’re holding back on me?” You jerked your head over to your land speeder with lips pressed in a hard line. “I want all of that scrap back on my speeder in five minutes so I can go take it to another buyer.”

The look you received in return did not necessarily convey the sense of increased urgency in Maximilion Bane’s response to your withdrawal of your side of the bargain. “I can give you half in calamari flan, then tomorrow when I sell these to my client I can pay the rest in nova crystals.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “What kind of buyer is giving you nova crystals?” You hadn’t ever seen one in person and if you had even one? You’d be able to take a long break from scavenging.

The junkboss stayed quiet before pushing forward the first half of his updated offer. “Do we have a deal?” He asked, your question completely disregarded.

You stayed silent for a moment or two, hedging your bets. The calamari flan was worth far more than the Imperial Credits, but the small sum was certainly not enough to cover the value of your haul. The decision came down to whether or not you could trust Maximilion Bane.

Within a minute, you came to the conclusion that the risk of missing out on one of the galaxy’s most valuable prizes outweighed the risk of being swindled.

“If you screw me over again, I will never, ever do business with you again.” Your voice was steely as you took the rubbery discs off of the counter. “Do you understand me?”

He nodded, knowing all too well what the value of keeping a scavenger as resourceful as you meant for his business. “Come back tomorrow at fifteen hundred hours, then I can give you your cut of the sale.”

With a stern nod, you pocketed the first half of your payment and turned on your heel, making your way out into the glaring Tatooine sun and leaving your speeder docked near where you would usually work on cleaning all of your findings. It was almost impossible to keep your thoughts of the prospect of having some of the most valuable currency in the galaxy in your hands in only little more than twenty four hours. Had you not been hardened by ten years of voluntary self isolation, supporting yourself by collecting scrap metal and selling it for less than what it was actually worth, maybe you would have allowed yourself to smile. Allowed yourself to let some former version of yourself creep over your features as a reminder to all that even those whose hearts have been hardened by hardship are still themselves at their core.

However, this was not one of the fairytales your father read to you at night when you were a child — those days were too far gone and you felt that you outgrew them the minute your feet crossed over the threshold of your home as you ran away from everything you had ever known when you were just fifteen. You didn’t operate in silly clichés and you certainly didn’t want to sit in your emotions and allow the past to soften you. To eat up all of your energy like it used to on cold nights when you’d first left home and wanted nothing more than to go running back to the comfort of your father’s arms.

All of that was in the past now, and you supposed that the past was simply prologue. Just a blip on the timeline of events in your life that has led you to the bittersweet plateau of the mundaneness of routine — get up, search for scrap, clean and sell the scrap, sleep. Nothing more, nothing less.

The road to your home wasn’t necessarily unpopulated by any means, it was just dusty and the sun was high, so more likely than not people were taking shelter in their homes to take their midday meal. There wasn’t anything unusual about not encountering many, if any, individuals on your way back from work.

So, tripping over a little bundle of something unexpectedly about four yards away from home naturally took you by surprise.

Falling to the ground, you immediately reached for your blaster, making a quick draw and pointing to toward whatever had tripped you only to find two large black eyes staring you down.

“Hello?” You asked timidly, blaster still raised as a soft coo met your ears. Your eyes widened and you dropped your weapon almost immediately because holy shit there was a child sitting right in front of you and it was defenseless and you suddenly felt absurd.

The child didn’t answer you, save a little giggle at your expense, no doubt noting you opening and close your mouth like a fish because you had never seen anyone who looked like that in your entire life. To hell with any of the manners your parents had worked to shove down your throat when you still lived with them.

You slowly crawled over to them, blaster in your hand with the safety on. They cowered back a few paces, ears lowering a bit. “It’s okay.” You said, voice a lot more certain as you tried to garner back your people skills. “Are you alone, little one?”

The only response you received were two little green hands stretching up toward you, causing you to flinch. He continued to move up toward you, eyes now determined. Your gaze focused down toward where their hand was going and your eyes softened a bit as you fixated on the target. The one piece of home you kept with you, a simple disc with your parent’s wedding anniversary date inscribed into it on a chain, had slipped from underneath your tunic when you had tripped.

“Is this what you’re looking at?” You asked, as if they even understood you. You reached up, pulling the chain out a little further so they could get a better look at it.

A more enthusiastic sound than the previous one met your ears and you smiled. Shit, when was the last time you had smiled? You gave the chain a tug, yanking it off of your neck and dangling it in front of the child’s face.

They broke out into a smile, despite looking somewhat uncomfortable just moments before, and surged toward you as quickly as they could on their little feet.

Something between a snort and a giggle left your lips as the little disc on the chain was suddenly pinched between green pudgy fingers. “Where’s your family, hm?” You mused, more to yourself than anyone else as you sat up on your knees, reaching back into your small bag filled with little odds and ends and pulling out small bit of food and offering it to them. “Are you hungry?”

The glistening of metal under the sun was no match for an unsatisfied stomach, apparently. The chain, which had found its way into the child’s mouth, was instantly forgotten and the food you offered was snatched from your hand. You scooped up the chain, a smile crossing your lips once more as you watched them raise the food to their lips and —

“Get away from him!” Someone snapped from behind you.

Fuck.

Finding a random kid on the streets without some sort of handler or parent or guardian or whatever was just not feasible, you knew this. Boy did you know this, because, fuck, you had been a kid on the street without a parent in Tatooine at one point. The streets were not kind to the innocent here.

You rolled back on your knees, pulling your blaster again and putting yourself between the child and whoever was yelling at you to move. Hitting the safety, your stomach sank as the sun glimmered off of whoever it was.

A Mandalorian in all of their shiny armored glory stood before you, blaster drawn on you. Whoever they were clearly had an advantage over you, what with your free arm protecting the little one you had tripped over and your dominant hand pointing your blaster back at them from the ground. Even if you had been standing it wouldn’t have mattered – they had you on height and muscle.

“Who the hell are you?” You finally settled on, steeling yourself as your gaze trained onto what you figured was your best guess of where their eyes would be had they not been covered by beskar as expressionless as the blasters in either of your hands.

“Doesn’t matter.” The modulated voice was undoubtedly male, there was no questioning that. “Give me the kid.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to stay perfectly still. “How do I know he’s even yours?” You challenged. Was this most likely a con job that was going to lead to you getting kidnapped, robbed, or both? Definitely. This child was definitely with the Mandalorian. However, on the off chance that he really wasn’t with the Mandalorian, some feeling that you could only identify as a mix of protective instinct and adrenaline made you shift in front of the child even more. “You certainly don’t share any resemblance.”

The Mandalorian’s head tilted, as if he was thinking. “Shut up.” He said after a moment, taking a few steps forward.

Your arm gently pushed the child back as you scooted back in the sand, trying to put some distance between you and the towering figure looming over you and your new found companion. “How do I know he didn’t get out of someone’s house and you’re trying to hurt him?” You challenged, a little more confident in your abilities to do more than hold your own if the situation came to combat.

“You don’t.” He said as plain as day, keeping whatever he was feeling so perfectly under wraps beneath the sparkling armor that encased his head. He was silent for another long moment as the child cooed behind you, making grabby hands at the Mandalorian. For all you knew, it could have simply been because of the shimmering metal in front of you, just like the chain in your free hand. “Are you in the business of taking things that don’t belong to you?”

“No.” You snapped, still staring him down over the barrel of your blaster. “Are you?”

Your question was ignored as he came forward even more and you gritted your teeth, squeezing the trigger. The shot simply ricocheted off of the Shar’tas covering to the space where his ribs ended. Attempting to take another shot, hoping the lack of distance would give you a better chance, your finger struggled to push the trigger once more, alerting you that the weapon had stalled. Shit.

The Mandalorian kicked the blaster out of your hand, the action messing up your balance and pushing you too the ground along with the child, who was adeptly scooped up and put to the side after the expressionless warrior had straddled your hips and pinned you down.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You snapped, panic rising in your chest as you tried to reach for the child, who was just out of your reach. Part of you was, again, trying to protect what you still hoped to be an innocent bystander rather than a part of a con job, part of you was trying to protect yourself. He wouldn’t kill you if you were holding a kid.

“What exactly were you planning on doing?” He said, voice still eerily calm. “Killing me, taking the kid, collecting a bounty?”

“A bounty?” You said, gasping for air as his weigh started to stifle your air supply.

The arm reaching for the child was suddenly stuck in the sand. “Do you think you could even handle taking care of a kid?” He continued, as if he were testing you.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Go fuck yourself.” You snapped, trying to buck him off of you. “I wasn’t trying to do shit except get home to rest when he literally tripped me, fuckin’ bucket head. Maybe you should take better care of your kid, if he’s even yours, considering he was alone and hungry when I found him.”

A modulated huff echoed in your ears as the Mandalorian reached for the kid and plucked something from around his neck. He dangled a necklace with a small mythosaur skull in front of your nose, his way of telling you that, yes, the kid was really with him. “This good enough for you?”

You nodded, bucking your hips again. “Get. Off. Of. Me.” You said through gritted teeth, continuing to buck your hips until the weight above you relented and rolled off of you, blaster trained on you once again.

“I’ve never seen a Mandalorian before.” “Why are you so concerned with the kid?”

Your words echoed one after another as you sat up, hand on your own weapon, as useless as it was. Your head tilted to the side as you studied the warrior sitting in front of you, then the plucky little baby glued to his side. Before you could say anything else, you were cut off again.

“You seem too scrawny to be a bounty hunter.” He continued, his head tilting as well.

“Hey, I —“

“So what do you want with him?” His voice was steely and guarded, just like every other part of him. “I know for a fact that there aren’t any Guild tracking fobs on him, but then again Moff Gideon —“

“Will you shut up for one second?” You snapped, finally sitting up. “I’m not with the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, I’m a scavenger, okay? I don’t even know what the hell that thing is.”

“He’s not a thing, he’s a kid.” The bounty hunter said simply, starting to stand up.

“Exactly.” You responded, starting to move but holding your hands up when he pointed his blaster at you again. “He’s a kid and I thought he was lost. I’d do it for anyone, okay?”

“But why?” He pressed, still not totally convinced that the woman in front of him had intentions motivated by good will alone.

“It doesn’t matter.” You said, finally standing up and putting your blaster away. “I’m gonna go. Glad you found your kid.” As you leaned down and grabbed your bag that had been tossed to the side, you heard a soft whimper and the patter of tiny feet in the sand. Turning on your heel, you were met with the sight of the nameless bundle of burlap and green waddling toward you, eyes somewhat concerned. You bit your lip, crouching down and reaching into your bag again, fishing out some more food and passing it into his hands when he finally made it to you. “Can you please lower your blaster?” You huffed up at the Mandalorian as you stared down the barrel of his weapon.

“No.” He responded almost immediately, leaving it at that as he watched you scratch the kid’s head on the spot that would typically have him fast asleep within ten minutes, even during the most fierce of tantrums.  He listened to your soft whispers as you told him that you had to go, but it had been nice to meet him.

You stood as the kid finally got distracted by his food, then slung your bag over your shoulder and headed back on your way toward your house, shoulders still tense because you had the strange suspicion that a blaster was still trained on your retreating figure.

“Why would you sacrifice your life to save a child you just met?” He asked, making you freeze on the spot.

You stared off down the path for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not it was even worth responding to him. “Because he’s a kid.” You finally said, turning around to look at him. “Because I was raised to protect people. You don’t get rid of instinct and training like that.”

As you finished speaking, the kid cooed again, trying to make his way toward you once more. His eyes were round and his hands reached out toward you once more.

“Can you kindly take your kid and go? I have to make myself something to eat.” You mumbled, finally prying your eyes away from the little green friend you had made and started on your walk back up the path, doing your very best to ignore what sounded like disappointed cries.

It was easier to ignore the kid than you initially expected as you continued down the path and made it home, too exhausted by the exchange to even care about the fact that the Mandalorian very easily could have tracked you and, more likely than not, did track you home. It was far easier to leave your tracks uncovered — the sand would blow them away soon enough. However, as easy as it had been to leave the Mandalorian and his child behind, your difficultly forgetting about them more than made up for the struggle that you might have endured earlier.

The novelty of meeting a Mandalorian in any capacity wasn’t what had peaked your interest. Maybe it was the kid or maybe it was excess adrenaline coursing through your veins from the almost fight for your life that had taken place. Maybe it was the fact that that Mandalorian specifically had so many questions, was so uncharacteristically talkative in that moment. He could have just ended you. Taken you out quickly as soon as the kid was out of the way. 

But he didn’t.

And that was what haunted you throughout the rest of the day and far into what proved to be a restless night.

[honestlywrites]

Vices | (Sith! Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader)

Chapter Four of Golden Hour

Summary: A few months past and you are selected by the Jedi Council to go on a mission to investigate suspicious activity around the Jedi Temple on Lothal. Unfortunately you find more than just the Separatists. 

A/N: Talk of infidelity, cheating, and degradation. 

Golden Hour Masterlist

You march through the corridor, your robes flowing through the air as you walk. Once you finally reach the training room, your eyes are instantly drawn to the temple guards that spar almost silently with their double-sided pikes. Their poise and militaristic fighting, you could watch them all day simply learning and training in the styles they were taught. 

Master Cin Drallig sits at the front of the room on a cushion, overseeing the training of the newer temple guards. You instinctively walk over to the seat beside him and kneel down, awaiting his instruction. 

“I have a mission for you, my dear,” he turns to face you and you lean in close, hyperaware of the audience you have. Every mission interests you for your true duty is to learn how to spearhead security like your master before. Exceptions are made, though, for the Clone Wars rage on with no care of the casualties. 

“What kind?” you ask as the two of you pause to watch as one temple guard pins and corners another, signaling the end of a match.

“The council and I need you to investigate an abandoned Jedi Temple on Lothal, there has been reported activity there and we need to ensure the Separatists are not taking advantage of it. You are not required to engage, we just wish to find out what is happening,” he instructs and you nod, categorizing all the information.

“Alright, then I’ll get to it. See you soon, Master,” you state and stand, walking alongside the edge of the room to avoid the action. Master Drallig barks out some sort of correction and you smile, turning your head to check on the match. When you look around at the guards, you notice the face of one staring straight back at you, the emotionless mask piercing into your soul. Turning back quickly, you shake your head and exit the room out to the hallway. 

Walking quickly back to your room, you shake your head and try to forget the way that the yellow slits stared at you with such menace even though the masks were utilized to get rid of emotions altogether. They were nothing like Obi-Wan’s honey-golden eyes. They were lifeless. 

Sighing, you shake the thought of Obi-Wan out of your head. You had a mission and you needed to focus. Once you arrive at your small living quarters, the essentials are shoveled into a small rucksack for emergency purposes. You pull at a sash on a stray wooden chair and watch as a few items tumble, including a small beaded bracelet. 

“What’s this?” you ask as Obi-Wan hands you a small pouch. The two of you sit on the roof of the Jedi Temple, away from the watching eyes of the council and temple guards.

“A present! Just open it,” he states and you quickly tug at the opening, watching as a small beaded bracelet falls out onto your lap.

“A bracelet?” you ask and hold it in your hand, seeing the yellow and blue beads shine in the light of the setting sun.

“I was out with Master Qui-Gon and saw this, it reminded me of you. So, I asked the owner nicely and he gave it to me,” he smiles and you look up in shock.

“You compelled him to give it to you? Obi-Wan, that’s illegal!” you look at him in horror, clutching the small bracelet in your hand.

“Don’t worry, I doubt he wanted it anyways. Besides, I got it because I know your master doesn’t leave a lot. I got it so you could have a taste of the outside world,” he takes your hand in his and you sigh, the warmth of his body against yours searing the feeling of the bracelet into your skin. 

“Fine, I’ll wear it for good luck,” you slip it onto your wrist and smile as your fingers intertwine with Obi-Wan’s, your head resting on his shoulder. 

You pick the bracelet up and roll it onto your wrist, allowing your sleeve to tumble down over it. 

“For luck,” you mumble and continue to pack up the rest of your items, namely rations and your saber all in a small satchel to carry with you on the ship. The sun barely begins to dip below the horizon when you arrive at the hangar, the clones readying your small ship. 

“Thank you, Commander Appo,” you state and he nods sharply before you board the ship and begin taking off. Staring out forward into the night, a cold sweat begins to wrack your body as the ship lifts off the ground and takes off into the darkness of space. Luckily, the navicomputer does most of the work as the ship heads toward Lothal. 

As the ship rushes forward into hyperspace, you nervously reach over for your bracelet and rub at the beads, allowing the smooth texture to bring you some sort of piece. Paranoia eats away at the back of your mind and you let it, the fear consuming your mind. In an instant, you can only acknowledge how small the ship is and how the vacuum of space seems to close in on you. Your throat dries and your heart pulses quickly in your chest, the lights suddenly becoming too bright. Standing quickly from your seat, you walk to the back of the ship where the thrum of the engines sounds out louder than space, providing you with some sort of distraction. This trip could not be any shorter. You pace back and forth in the back of the ship for a long while, attempting to break your focus on the scary depths before the control panel begins sounding out, alerting that you are about to jump out of hyperspace.

Sitting back down, you prepare to take control as the ship jerks, and you are met with a beautiful blue and green planet. The clouds swirl in a beautiful myriad of patterns, painting your vision with a sight of lively nature. You steer the ship downward, following the navigation as it points you in the direction to the temple. As you land, the dust kicks up and blocks your vision for a moment before it settles and reveals the mountainous spires that appear to roll on for ages. You stare up at the largest spire that stands tall in front of you, seemingly staring down as you peer up to take in its greatness. For a moment, you close your eyes and the Force reaches out to you, recalling the many souls of the previous Jedi that had roamed this temple. When you reopen your eyes the spire begins to grow out of the ground as the ship rumbles from the sheer vibrations that resonate throughout this area. Once the spire reaches its full size, your body begins to shake from excitement. You grab the tawny sack that contains your belongings and rush out of the ship, almost sprinting toward the opening where the teeth-like stones separate to make a passage for you. Stepping inside, the air clings to your skin and seeps into your muscles. While not sluggish, you feel the essence of a being residing inside the temple and surrounding you, almost comfortingly. The silence does not deafen you but coexists to bring serenity as you walk further inside. 

Once you arrive in front of three doors, you notice the kneeling statues of previous Jedi Masters. You stare at their figures, immortalized in the natural stone of this planet. They were waiting for their padawans to come back. This temple was a test for the Jedi of old. It would be a perfect breeding ground for Separatists to hide and learn the secrets of Jedi past, but there was no sign of life, no occupation to investigate. Oh, how quickly you were proven wrong. 

The sound of feet landing softly behind you causes you to spin around swiftly, reaching to the saber hanging at your belt. It ignites and lights the dim room in a beautiful yellow, illuminating your face and the figure of a Sith acolyte. Asajj Ventress.

“Well, look who we have here. A Jedi Knight,” she mutters lowly, brandishing her own two red lightsabers that combat your bright yellow.

“What are you doing here?” you ask and begin settling in your spot, your body moving into a defensive position. 

“What does it look like I’m doing, I’m luring you here,” she states and smiles, her eyes lighting up as the fear begins to rise within you. “Honestly, I’m surprised they sent you. You seem the least qualified to deal with the Sith.”

“What do you mean?” your stance waivers for a moment as Ventress lets out a small cackle.

“You were in love with Darth Vellian and now look where he is. If anything, you shouldn’t even be a Jedi. I mean you’re toying with the dark side, my dear.”

“Jedi do not fall in love. We are not to have attachments,” your fears come to fruition as you begin questioning all the precautions you took to ensure that your love for Obi-Wan would never see the light of day. What did this mean for you and your place as a Jedi?

“Don’t be silly, he’s told me all about you and your silly relationship. About how you were a thorn in his side and drove him to the dark side. He’s not yours anymore, he’s mine,” her eyes seemingly gleam in the light emanating from her weapons. 

“What?” you drop your position, turning your lightsaber off as the darkness ebbs away at your stability. 

“What did you think would happen? He realized you were too safe and too boring. I now occupy his time much better than you could,” your vision drops down to glance at the beaded bracelet that sits at your wrist. This gives Ventress enough time to begin charging at you with her two blades up and ready. When you see her beginning to run, your saber is instantly up to defend yourself against her attack.

“You’re lying!” you scream out and push back against her.

“No, you are,” she instantly goes again, aiming to sweep at your legs. “And he’s much better in bed now that he’s on the dark side.”

You jump up to avoid the burning beams and bring your lightsaber straight down, the acolyte meeting your attack. Drawing back, you throw the hilt up slightly so that it flips in your hand as you attempt to sweep the saber across her chest. Ventress steps back and growls as you follow through, the woman taking the moment to slide the blade against your arm, burning the skin severely. The lightsaber falls out of your hand as you lose stability and reach with the other hand to hold your injured arm.

“Did he get this for you?” she deactivates one of her lightsabers and reaches out to grab at the wrist with the beaded bracelet. “It’s useless. He doesn’t love you anymore.”

She rips the bracelet off your wrist, the beads flying across the stone floor, and rattling off into corners where they will never be seen again. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as your chest aches at the loss of such a prized possession. 

“You’re useless,” Ventress leans in and whispers in your ear, her saber close enough to feel the heat radiating off of the charged plasma. You can hear your heart pound away in your chest, reminding you that you are alive and in a moment of lucidity, you beckon your saber forward and smash the hilt across Ventress’ temple. She instantly falls to the ground, unconscious as her lightsabers scatter across the floor. The tears threaten to roll down your cheeks as you rush out of the temple, your bag slung on your shoulder as the light of day shines and reflects off your small flying vessel. 

For once, you feel relief as you climb into the artificially cold atmosphere of the ship. When you sit down in the seat, the soft sponge-like cushions provide you comfort as the vessel comes to life and begins taking off into the sky. You cannot be bothered by the fear as another thought eats away at you. Obi-Wan is no longer your lover. You have been cheated, he lied to you. Was taking you to Mustafar a power move?

The lights of hyperspace blind you as the tears fill up in your eyes, spilling over onto your cheeks. Your arms wrap around your torso, attempting to stop your chest from aching even more. The chill of space seeps into your skin and you sob silently to the emptiness that surrounds you, doing nothing to comfort you out in this deep abyss. Years of love and history seem to escape away, the memories meaningless. Times where you hid in the hallways and climbed onto the roof to get away, it all appears as moments where you were pawned off in his long game. You want to believe that Ventress is wrong, that she is telling you lies but her sabers and tie to the dark side connect the two of them much more than you could imagine. 

The sharp jolt out of hyperspaces comes quicker than you expect, but it forces you to get a grip on your emotions, even for a moment to show a face to the Council. Steering down to Coruscant and landing in the hangar has never seemed so easy as you find yourself exiting the small vessel and stepping out to see the faces of the mechanics who quickly get to work. You swiftly walk out and toward the Council, ready to report your findings. After a moment of breathing just outside of the room, you knock and enter, faced with a room full of the Jedi Masters. 

“Ah, welcome,” Yoda mutters as you move to stand in the middle of the room. After countless times of facing the council, you always seem to feel the pressure and fear of being revealed even after Obi-Wan left. 

“I have returned from Lothal, and the findings are shocking, to say the least,” you state and begin explaining your encounter with Ventress, the lies rolling over your tongue as you leave out the mention of Obi-Wan. 

“So we have a reasonable belief that the Separatists are attempting to take over and use Lothal as one of their bases,” you finally conclude as silence washes over, the Council sitting as they take in the information. “If that is all, I would like to take my leave. This mission was very taxing.”

You walk out of the room as the silence seems to choke you, allowing your thoughts to take over. For a moment, you pause in the corridor and stare at the emptiness, recalling the areas you would hide with Obi-Wan to get away from it all. He is all you can see when looking at the carpet, the ceiling, the pillars. The temple was like a shrine to him, you could remember every single place where he whisked you away just to kiss your cheek or to caress your body. You cannot escape. Your breathing quickens and you quickly rush through the halls and out of the temple, finding solace in the busy courtyard that leads out to the bustling streets of Coruscant. 

Rushing through, you find yourself boarding a speeder bus to Dex’s Diner. The buildings pass by you in a blur of gray and black and you find yourself walking into the diner, sitting at a small cushioned booth. Dex wanders over and asks you for your order, you mumble out your order and dig into the sweet concoction that slides onto the table. The sugary treat coats your mouth uncomfortably and stops you from thinking too deeply about the past couple of hours. It distracts you enough that the bell from the door does not even break you from your stupor. 

“Hello, darling,” the silky grovel of Obi-Wan voice causes you to jump as your vision focuses on the man in front of you. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest once again and you wonder how it does not burst out of your chest. A few moments are taken as the two of you stare, the ambiance of Coruscant playing on a loop in the background. It takes you a moment to respond but the venom that builds up sprays out the second you mutter your words.

“What are you doing here?” your eyes narrow into thin slits as your blood boils like acid in your veins.

“I’ll admit, I thought you would be happier to see me,” his honey eyes drift over your form, taking in the tenseness of your shoulder and overall hostile language.

“Happy to see you? Think again,” you spit out and visibly see him flinch in place.

“What is with this malice, darling? Just tell me,” he sighs and leans in, resting his arms on the table. 

“Malice? Why don’t you ask Ventress,” you turn to stand but find Obi-Wan sliding out and pulling you back.

“What does she have to do with this?” he asks and you huff, the tears beginning to bead in the corners of your eyes. 

“Everything,” you state and watch as a few people turn to stare. Standing, you take Obi-Wan’s arm and pull him to the nearest alleyway after slamming down a couple of credits onto the table. 

“Finally,” he whispers and wraps his arms around your waist, beginning to lean in to press his lips to yours. You firmly place your hand on his chest and push him back off of your body. 

“Why was Ventress in Lothal at the Jedi Temple?” you ask, breathing in deeply to try and remain civil.

“Because I sent her there to scout. I assume the Jedi caught wind of those operations though, I’ll need to disband it,” he thinks out loud and smoothes down his beard as he ponders the situation. 

“Is that all I am to you? A tool to win the war?” you scoff and shake your head, your hands moving up to anxiously run through your hair. 

“Of course not, but do remember that we’re in the middle of the Clone Wars, dear” he smiles playfully and the sight of him cracks your porcelain exterior. 

“She told me that you used me. That you’re using me. That you love her and sleep in her bed. Was I just an accessory? I can’t believe I fed into your lies,” a rebellious tear drips down your cheek, glistening in the low lighting of the alleyway. Not even the sounds of Coruscant can save you from the thick cloud of silence that settles like a weight on your shoulders. 

“She told you? I promise it was only a few times. I was lonely,” he whispers and turns away in shame and contemplation.

“She was right. I’m nothing to you anymore. I can’t believe I fed into your narrative. I even wore your bracelet,” the tears roll down your cheeks more readily in salty streams, dripping into your mouth and creating a lasting bitterness. “Leave me alone, Sith.”

You reach down with shaky hands and take your lightsaber in your hand, the metal hilt weighing you down like lead. It comes up at the ready, and before you equip it, Obi-Wan is already running off into the darkness. Falling to your knees, you sit back against the brick wall and wrap your arms around your knees, letting out a scream as you cry into your knees. 

Taglist: @zeldasayer @aemorr-5885 @danicalifxrnia @sparrows-corner @squeakingsheep @fandom-blackhole @cherieboba @wildefire

[miss-tc-nova]

Bad Game of Chicken - Xehanort x Fem!Reader Pt 1

So...I’ve been holding onto this one for a while too...procrastinating...but I decided I want to finish it. It’s fun, even if the premise is a little silly and a little cliche. Still had some fun. 

~~~~~

Part 1: Rules

              Chest heaving, I drop my armful of mess across the table. The toll of the bell rings throughout the entire castle a second later.

              “Cutting it close today, don’t you think?” Urd says, closing her book. All I can do is shake my head and sink into my chair.

              Bragi leans forward to get a look. “Yeah, even Eraqus beat you here.”

              Tardy Fleetfoot gives a grin. “He’s right.”

              “What happened?” Hermod asks as the only one truly concerned.

              “My…alarm…died,” I gasp, reining in my scattered supplies.

              Silver eyes from the seat in front of me peer back. “Sounds like poor judgement to me.”

              “Shut it,” I huff, straightening up to greet our teacher along with the rest. A reaction I will not give him; he’s always hunting for one from me.

              Xehanort, Haughty Swaggerstep, thorn-in-my-side, asshole—he arrived on our world a couple years ago and quickly earned those labels. His snarky attitude is enough to rival Smarmy Fluffcoat but he’s got plenty of raw talent and is not afraid to put some effort into his education.

              His first days were spent breaking down every one of us. Eraqus was his original target once Vor mentioned his legendary ancestors. That was fine with me; he could challenge that slacker all he wanted—I had work to do. However, a week later, the two were suddenly best friends and I somehow became the center of those ambitious endeavors. As it turns out, Fleetfoot let it slip that my family is just as illustrious as his. Like that lazy bum, I didn’t care in the slightest about my lineage, but unlike said boy, I took my training seriously. Supposedly this made me the perfect target but—because I didn’t take to his antagonizing all that well—Xehanort and I became rivals rather than competitive buddies.

              Time goes by far more normal than it started until keyblade training comes around. Now Master Odin is very aware of our class’s dynamics: any pairing of Bragi, Eraqus, and Vor is likely to get out of hand while Hermod and I are capable of keeping on track with almost anyone. I say almost because the biggest disaster pairing consists of myself and Xehanort. Fire and ice get along better than we do and the Master knows it, so he usually gives us the space we naturally demand. But, now and then, he pushes the boundary.

              Today is one of those days.

              At least his expectation of us is sparring, meaning I get to smack that hothead around a bit.

              “Oh this is gonna be fun,” I hear him utter to his best friend.

              Pretending not to have heard him, I stroll onto the practice arena. My opponent follows suit, brandishing his keyblade and boasting a haughty grin.

              “You’re about to be knocked down a peg—I’m gonna lay you in the dirt,” he announces, this time loud enough for everyone.

              My own weapon is held tighter. “It’s about time I put you in your place.”

              It takes a lot to get on my bad side, but Xehanort makes it look easy; he knows exactly which buttons to push to start a fight.

              “Bring it on, princess,” he jeers.

              Disdain comes through in my glare. “You’ll regret those words.”

              Practice starts within the rules: keyblades only. However, as the match continues the tension grows. Pedigree discipline and life-long devotion to my craft are on my side and it’s infuriating that Xehanort’s natural talent can nearly match it; I can push and block but I just can’t take him down. The slight edge I have over him appears to grate at him though. He’s the first to escalate the task.

              Every nerve in my body screams from the bolt summoned by my opponent. The Master calls out, ignored in favor of rushing me. One swing of my keyblade retaliates with ice. In Xehanort’s moment of weakness, I close the gap and send him flying back. Sparring just became significantly more difficult with hostility-fueled magic.

              “That’s enough!”

              Again, lightning strikes, only this time I hit the ground. My muscles spasm but this paralysis won’t relent so easily. I give up the fight when I spot my enemy across the field in the same state—if he didn’t cast this spell, we are in so much trouble.

              “Not only did you two disobey my orders, you put each other in serious danger.” We’re in trouble. “Your training is over today. The second you can start walking, you two can march back to class and make sure it’s spotless.”

              The boys drag us off the field to await the ailment’s passing.

~~~~~

              Violently wiping down the blackboard, I am fuming while the enemy cleans erasers out the window. I’m absolutely furious I let myself be dragged into his idiocy; I knew better and I still let him antagonize me.

              Into the bucket I slam the rag. A splash of water sloshes onto the table.

              “We already have enough to clean without you making it worse,” Xehanort growls, replacing the erasers.

              “You created this mess so get over it,” I retort, squeegeeing up the excess water.

              Stepping closer, he accuses, “You participated in that disaster just as much as I did. You could’ve stopped just as easily as I could.”

              “And let you fry me? Asshole.” Bucket in hand, I start for the door. “Thank gods I only have to spend class time in your presence. I think I’d jump out the window if I had to put up with you any longer.”

              “Oh you wish you could be seen hanging off my arm.”

              Oh, I was almost out the door. “Please. You’re lucky to be seen in the same class as me.” He glowers. “And before you open that smart-ass mouth of yours, it’s not because I’m pureblood—It’s because I’m better than you.”

              “So much for being a refined princess. Gods, who in their right mind would put up with you?”

              “You’re not all sunshine and rainbows yourself,” I spit back.

              “You can pretend all you want that you’re better than me, but I put up with you far more than you do with me.”

              “I doubt that. You’re the one who keeps shoving these problems on me.” I begin my leave a second time.

              “Wanna bet?”

              I really need to stop looking back. “Bet?” I scoff.

              As if he’s stumbled onto a treasure trove, he sneers. “I bet you that I can handle being in a relationship with you longer than you can.”

              I hold a hand up. “You want to bet on which of us can last longer dating the other?” I incredulously ask. “How stupid can you be?”

              “Scared you’ll like it?” I’d slap that smirk off his face but then he’d win the game we’re already playing and I can’t have that.

              “Oh I’m gonna love it until I win,” I answer, walking back. “What’s the prize?”

              Folding his arms as if he’s already won, he sneers, “You can call me Master and be my pack mule when you lose.” It was smart of him to go after my pride in that way.

              My nose scrunches. “Hah! When you break, I’ll be Master but we’ll make that old-man hair of yours pink.” His confidence falters. I extend a hand. “Backing down already?”

              He doesn’t love that question. When his grip takes mine, he pulls me close enough to see the different shades of silver mixed in his eyes. “You’re on. I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re mine.”

              In the face of his attempt to unnerve me, I smile. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”

              To my complete surprise, he drops the act. “Yeah, that will be interesting. Nobody’s gonna believe it.”

              “Well you better convince them.”

              “You’re part of this game too.”

              This bad game of chicken.

[sylvain-writes]

To Be Seen (TMNT Leonardo x Reader)

Rated: PG; Leonardo x Artist Reader (Gender Neutral)

Prompt Fill for @whygz

Leo finds Reader’s art depicting their interest for him.  Reader has a stutter, especially when nervous.  Happy ending (of course). 

When you see him sitting in the dojo, under the great tree, your stomach twists and your heart jumps.  It’s almost no different than the last time you walked in on him during a quiet moment--always a spike of anxiety, always a flutter in your core.  But today he has a book propped on his knee, his brow furrowed in thought, the blue tails of his bandana twisting between his fingers, and you know.  You just know. 

He’s found it.  Your portfolio.  He found it and you can’t believe that Honor Boy actually opened it. He’s sitting there, holding your art like looking through it isn’t the gravest violation of privacy he could have made, and the anxiety you feel isn’t just the crush you struggle and fail to ignore.  There’s embarrassment and anger and fear.  If he’s seen what you’ve drawn, then he knows the secret you’ve kept so closely guarded.  If he knows your true feelings for him, then everything between you is going to change.

Everyone has their way to center, their hobbies and interest and talents.  The things that consume them and put their minds at ease.  For Donatello it’s his machines and music.  For Leonardo it’s meditation and martial arts.  Raphael has the gym and nights out with Casey.  Michelangelo hops from the kitchen to the arcade without prejudice.  

And you… you found your peace in your art.  The scratch of pencils over the textured paper of your notebook, the smudge of graphite on the edge of your hand, the calluses on your knuckles.  You live in it--your art. It’s all part of it.  You find peace while sitting in the quiet corners of a room.  Your art is your safe space. 

It wasn't until you told yourself that you could have this space, the small piece of the world that's all your own, that you left yourself open up. You promised yourself no one would see it, no one would judge it.  You carved out this space, you made your promises, and the art poured out of you.

And now Leonardo sits in your usual spot with your art--your heart--in his hands.  He traces the book’s binding with his thumb and your chest aches.  Your arms and face tingle as you watch him and wonder how much he’s seen.  Feelings of self-consciousness grow in you like a wall, threatening to immobilize you.  But you take a step forward, forcing anger past your embarrassment.  

Your lips part, ready to call Leo out for what he’s done.  But he beats you to the punch.

“Hey,” he says, looking up.  It’s a quiet greeting.  More tender than it has any right to be.  His expression is so soft it’s disarming.  

You harden your stare.  He’s not allowed to look at you like this anymore.  Not after this.  He’s taken the one piece of this world that was your own and looked inside without permission.  You would have never crossed this line, if circumstances were reversed.  You would never trample his rock garden or mess with his weapons.  So, no, he doesn’t get this; he doesn’t get immediate forgiveness after trespassing through your privacy--even if his voice does carry all the comforts you’ve ever craved.  

When he requests your company, the book is still in his lap.  For what it’s worth, he doesn’t hide what he’s found.  “Come sit?” he asks carefully.  And you want to.  He’s your best friend.  But you need to keep your distance.  You’ll forgive him too easily if you step into his orbit and let yourself be carried away by his charms. 

He’s looking at you with his large blue eyes that always seem to see.  You struggle to stand your ground, when what you really want to do is hide.  He’s already seen too much.  What right does he have to ask for more?

You’ve always preferred to exist where you won’t be seen.  It’s a talent you’ve been honing since even before meeting the turtles. You like quiet spaces where it seems like life can slow down for a while.  It’s why you’ve spent so much time in the dojo, by the garden.  Nestled among the roots of the great tree, you could lean back and listen to the rainwater runoff.  You could watch the boys train, or Leonardo tend his garden or sit for tea.  ‘It’s all a form of meditation,’ he’d said once when he caught you stealing a glance, ‘if you let it in.’

‘Let it in.’  Leonardo’s been saying that alot.  Especially recently.  And you’re not sure what it’s supposed to mean.  

Leonardo is patient, even when it looks like you aren’t going to join him on the mat.  “This is yours, right?”  He turns the book in his hands, then holds it out to you like it’s nothing more than a casual exchange between friends.  But it’s not as easy as all that, no matter how badly you wish it could be.  “I guess you left it behind when me and the guys had to head out in a hurry.”

You look off to the side, if only to escape the guilty glint in Leo’s eye.  ‘Head out in a hurry’ is putting it lightly.  The guys had scrambled into the van and gone topside with only half their gear in order to catch up with the Foot.  They had left you worrying for hours without a word of their safety.  But the lowlifes had been caught by sunrise and the turtles returned home unscathed.  You, however, had to get back to the university for an early studio session and didn’t notice your private portfolio was missing until you were setting up your desk.

You hug the portfolio as you wrack your mind for a response.  ‘Thanks,’ feels too passive, too permissive.  And as for anything stern, well, you aren’t sure you can string a sentence together without tripping over your words.

During your silence, Leo continues to explain.  “It was Mikey’s turn to clean the dojo.  He found it there and-”

“A-and he th-thought you guys could just g-go through my things?” You push your way through the sentence, rising up on your toes as if looking down on Leonardo will give you confidence.  You know you should take time to calm down, that your stutter will only frustrate you further the more upset you allow yourself to become.

“No. Mikey brought it to me since-”

“Since w-w-what, Leo?”  Since he saw what’s inside?  Shit, you know it’s because Mikey saw what’s inside.  He’s not a moron.  And he’s an artist in his own right.  He’s good at puzzles.  Most of his videogames are strategy based, when push comes to shove.  Of course he’d figure it out, even if your work is more abstract than not.

Leo sits unperturbed by your anger.  In fact, he remains steady in voice and posture as he replies, “Since I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You wish his calm wasn’t so damn, well, calming.  You bite your lips between your teeth and take a deep breath through your nose and damnit if that doesn’t calm you further.  You ask him, “About what?” and you’re surprised by how gentle you sound.  Where’s your indignance?  He messed up.  He should be apologizing.  Why isn’t the guy who values his virtues so much apologizing?  

“I wanted to talk to you about... your art.”  This is the first time you’ve heard even a hint of hesitation, of nervousness, in your stalwart friend.

You shrink into yourself, even more afraid of what he could have to say, and Leo’s frown deepens.  Despite your preference for solitude, despite the feelings you’ve kept from him, you’ve never pulled away before. “What about it?”

“I still have the sketch you made of my katanas from a while back,” he admits, but it almost sounds like he’s changing the subject.  “You make it look effortless.  Which I know it isn't.  But… I see you, y'know?”  

There’s a pause afterward and it feels like the world is rushing in around you.  What does he see? 

He continues, “When you're in the dojo.  You get so caught up in your work.  I see you stretching and shaking off the cramps, but you're driven.  And I don’t think anyone really sees…”  He folds his hands in his lap as he holds your gaze.  “But I want to.  If that's alright."

“You want to see what I’ve drawn?”

“I want…”  Instead of finishing his thought, Leonardo takes a moment for himself and then nods.

“You didn’t look?”  It surprises you how easy it is to believe him.

“Of course not.”  He admits his ignorance of what’s hidden within your portfolio; he affirms that your assumption he’d breached your trust had been a misunderstanding.  He looks up at you with a curious tilt to his head and an apology for worrying you in his gaze.  Your heart breaks a little realizing he isn’t the one who should be apologizing at all.

“Geez, Honor Boy,” you force a smile as your anger recedes and your anxiety comes rushing back.  “Th-they really b-broke the mold when they m-made you, huh?”  

Leo glances at the portfolio in your arms and then finds your eyes again.  With patience and care, he holds out his palm.  “May I?”  There’s no expectation in his request.  You know you can refuse him without retribution.  But you think, it’s better to know.  It’s better for each of you to know where the other stands.  At least then, your world won’t be clouded with maybes and what ifs.  

Not trusting your words, you swallow hard.  Your hand shakes as you hold out the book.  You think you’ll lose your grip if he doesn’t take it quickly.  But Leo’s movements are slow.  He blinks up at you as he brushes his fingertips over yours and your heart skips a beat.  When he receives the book it’s with the care that he takes regarding all of the things he holds most dear.  You think you’re being silly to entertain the idea that maybe he holds you among them.

You chew your lips and tug at your sleeves and you watch him lift the cover.  With small humphs and thoughtful nods, he pauses and flips through your most intimate thoughts.  You lift your voice to explain which are assignments and which were done in your leisure, but he already seems to know.  You wonder how he can sit there so calmly while he holds your heart in his hands.  How he can sit there while your throat tightens, your hands curl into fists, your face burns red.  Your eyes sting.  

When he looks up at you, he seems caught off guard by your expression.  “Are you alright?  You’re not.  What’s wrong?”

You know that if he goes any further into that book, he’ll see.  He’ll find the shift--the moment you started falling for him.  It’s illustrated in those pages.  You’re still not sure if you’re ready for him to find out, but a greater part of you needs this uncertainty to be over.

Leo says, “These are incredible,” and your stomach flips.  “I knew you were an artist, but… why don’t you display your work?”

You shake your head.  The question is better answered by the pages he’s yet to see.  “Th-there’s more.” 

Leo considers your words and holds out his hand to you.  “Come sit,” he requests.  They’re the same words as before, but somehow they hold more weight.  He wears an expression that leads you to believe he’d be crushed if you don’t join him this time.

You sit.  But you don’t do it for him.  You do it because when he looks through the next half of the book, you’re afraid your legs will give out beneath you.  You’re afraid you’ll run out of the dojo and, for the first time, truly hide from your best friend.  You’re afraid that if you don’t sit with Leo, you’ll lose him.  So, you sit.

Curled up with your knees to your chest and your chin propped on top of them, you prompt Leo to turn the page.  You hold your breath as he complies.

There’s blue.  So much blue.  All different hues.  There are lines, sharp like the blades of Leo’s swords.  Blended hues flowing across the pages in ribbons.  There are sunbursts of blue and white and grey.  

Leo turns the pages by the corners, peeking through the rest.  You wonder what he’s looking for.  Does he think he’ll find similar sections for purple, orange, and red?  You know he won’t.  Your thoughts, your art, is consumed by blue.

Leo’s head is bowed and his eyes are downcast when he closes the book and sets it aside.  He’s taking deep breaths when he turns to you and you take one of your own to prepare yourself for rejection.  

But then he lifts his gaze and his sunburst irises are looking at you with new light.  With understanding. With something more.  You convince yourself the hope you see is merely a reflection of what your own eyes must be broadcasting.   

“May I kiss you?”  

His question comes as such a surprise it renders you speechless.  You’re stuck, stock still, for an interminable moment before he speaks again.  The sound of your name on his tongue draws you out of your fog and you feel yourself nodding before you realize you’re doing so.

Leo rises to one knee to close the space between you.  The air is charged and you know the crackle of nervous energy is all your own.  Because Leo is calm.  He’s sure.  

The hair on your arms stand on end as he leans in.  Your gaze flits from his eyes to his lips and back.  

When his hand alights to your cheek it’s a soft touch, but insistent.  He’s not scared and his confidence in the moment eases your own worry.  He’s secure in his feelings for you and you’re safe in his hands.  It’s enough assurance that you allow yourself one last look at his eyes before letting yours close.  His hand is gentle as it guides you toward him, before he presses his mouth to yours.  

Somehow, even after months of falling, it seems like you’ve never wanted to kiss Leo as much as you do now that he’s caught your lips with his own.  You need more.  

Your hands slide up his shoulders to the back of his neck and pull him in.  He makes a small sound of surprise, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, knowing you’ve caught the ninja off guard.  He braces himself with one hand against the tree behind you as you deepen the kiss. 

Kissing Leo is more than you could have imagined it would be.  It feels right and you feel settled.  For the first time, in a long time, you feel seen. You’re being seen and it isn’t terrifying, because Leo is the one looking and you trust him to keep you safe.  

[moonlightsolo]

Bête Noire

summary: You haven’t felt Kylo’s presence in the Force for a few months. You can’t stop overthinking about what could have happened to him. Maybe it’s because you’re too comfortable with his enemy. Your stay with the Resistance is starting to feel more like home. The twins have grown quickly, almost too quick. 

pairing: kylo ren x female reader

warnings: violence, action, and mentions of blood

wc: 3.6k

note: just mentally prepare yourself for this chapter

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

You haven’t heard from Kylo in a while. It’s been worrying you that maybe you’ve changed too much or maybe the Force has severed the connection.

Of course, the thought sits in the back of your head throughout the days, itching and begging you to worry about it even more.

The growth of your children is accelerating, making your abdomen seem much larger than it’s supposed to be. The doctors are dumbfounded but Leia tells you it’s because of the Force. So much strength was conceived into both of them.

Honestly, it scares you. Motherhood and the possibility of Force-sensitive children.

You help out around the base as much as you can and then you retreat back to your room to take a warm shower. Hopefully it’ll ease your sore back.You love the feeling of being pregnant and helping your babies grow but it puts a toll on your body.

When you get undressed, you can’t help but glance at your appearance in the mirror. Tiny indents and scars litter your body, stretch marks are gradually making their way onto your hips from the rapid growth of your abdomen. You notice the jagged line of the scar on your thigh, your fingers dance over the skin there as you remember the battle on Crait. 

The first time you met Kylo face to face. Back then, you would never have guessed you’d be where you are right now in life. If the First Order never attacked your village, would you have somehow met Kylo later on?

You take a deep breath before letting your hair loose from its tight bun and stepping into the shower quickly since the water doesn’t stay hot for long.

A few minutes into it you hear the front door open, then Poe’s bedroom door opens and shuts too. The walls are quite thin here, other than the walls that are supported by the cold mountain. Those are practically soundproof.

You decide to get out after rinsing yourself off, you grab a towel that’s hanging nearby and you wrap it around your body to soak up the water. Then you grab another one to dry your hair.

You hear Poe’s heavy footsteps through the wall and it makes you smile slightly. You knock on the wall in a pattern only he would know, the footsteps stop and come closer to you. He walks over to the wall, repeating the same pattern. “Hi, Dameron.” You yell at the wall, you can hear him chuckle.

“Hi. Get dressed, silly.” He laughs at you before continuing whatever he was doing. Your friendship with Poe is stronger than ever now. Maybe you do belong with the Resistance.

When that thought crosses your mind, everything goes silent. Your smile drops and your eyes widen as you look around. You hurry out of the steamy bathroom, chills dance up your arms. It’s Kylo. 

“The Force. It connected us again.” His deep voice echoes, “I haven’t seen you.” He turns towards you completely now, his jaw twitches as he looks at the state you’re in.

“They’re growing quickly.” He takes a few steps towards you and you do the same to him. He takes a glove off of one of his hands and it comes up to rest on your bump. He slips it between the slit of the towel so his skin is against yours. His eyes shut slowly as he focuses, his dark eyelashes resting against his pale skin.

“Wait you know there's two? What are you-.” He brings his free hand up to silence you. You gulp as you watch him. He finally looks back up at you, a small smile breaks out on his stern face. “I can feel the life in you. I know the gender of our children.” His hand travels around to your back and he pulls you closer. His free hand goes up to tuck your wet hair behind your ear, “A boy and a girl.” He whispers.

“Really?” You exclaim as tears want to fall from your eyes. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, bringing you close to leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you.” You blurt out, eyes squeezing shut as you realized what you said. His dark eyes are staring right into yours as you open your eyes, his face blank.

“You love me?” He asks, slightly hesitant. His voice is shaky.

“I do. I love you.” You smile as your chest rises and falls quite quickly. He can’t help but pull you in for another kiss, his smile is wide. You haven’t seen him smile like this before.

His dimples are on full display as he pulls back to look at you, his eyes falling to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“I love you.” His strong demeanor is completely in shambles, his soft center is showing. This is not the same man you met on Crait. He’s changed and you’ve been trying to tell everyone that.

“I miss you so much.” You shake your head as you look down. “If you just tell me where you are, I can come to you.” His grip tightens as he pulls you closer.

As much as you want to, you know you can’t. You let your head fall against his chest as you let a soft sigh out, tears finally roll down your cheeks.

A knock at your door makes your head whip around to look at it. When you glance back at Kylo, he’s gone. Your close your eyes as you take a deep breath then you waddle to the door. You hide behind it as you open it, peeking through the crack. It’s Poe.

“You okay? I tried knocking on the wall again and you didn’t answer. Leia has asked us to come to her. Some speech or something.” He’s concerned, his arm goes up to rest on the door frame, “I heard you talking to someone before I knocked on the door.” His eyes fell, you know he knows that Kylo was here.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for checking up on me.” You smile, “I’m gonna get dressed I’ll be out soon.” He nods and backs up so you could close the door.

You groan to yourself as you get dressed, pulling a long-sleeved thermal top over your belly. You looked like you were about seven months pregnant but you were technically only four months if you were counting from the time you found out to now. You shimmied on some pants and your boots, brushing your damp hair and tying it into a braid that falls down your back.

You haven’t cut your hair since Jakku. It’s been a while. Maybe Leia knows how.

You rub your face with a sigh, looking around the room to make sure Kylo wasn’t there before leaving to join Poe. When will you see him next?

Poe and BB-8 lead you to Leia, hopefully, everything is okay.

When all three of you enter the command center, many heads turn to look at you. You felt slightly embarrassed as Poe picks up his hand almost like he was saying sorry for interrupting. Leia just shakes her head and continues her speech.

“The First Order has grown stronger. Their fleet has doubled across the galaxy as they search for us and any day now they could discover we are here.” Her voice is tough, but still nervous.

Rey is standing on the other side of the room next to Finn, Rose, Chewy, and C-3PO. You smile at her once she catches your eye and she returns it. Her brown hair is down, resting on her shoulders and not in her regular three bun hairstyle.

“We have been preparing for the day to come. Hopefully, it won’t be soon. Just stay prepared. We are severely outnumbered and hopefully the platoon that lands on the planet won’t be too much.” She sighs, “Many of you already know that Snoke is dead and Kylo Ren has taken over as Supreme Leader of the First Order.” Leia’s eyes look over the group, catching yours for a moment. “The only person who could hold him off is Rey.” She holds onto her cane as she talks.

“We will try to escape again if they find us. It won’t be pretty and we may lose a few of our people but we have to have hope.” She nods with a smile. One of the Generals comes up and starts talking about tactics with fighting and military things you really didn’t need to listen to.

Your mind goes silent again, it’s like your surroundings are put on mute. Your eyes look around as you try to find him. He’s not in this room. You didn’t take notice that Rey is watching you, she knows but you don’t know she does yet.

You leave Poe’s side and he looks over at Rey and Leia in confusion. Leia discreetly points at Rey to follow you. As you leave the room, you look down the hallway and then you turn around. He’s standing there.

“It’s happening again.” His voice echoes. You chew on your bottom lip as you walk towards Kylo. “Why did you leave?” You ask, eyes trained on how his facial features change.

His face angles down as you grow closer to him, yours angles up as he is taller than you. “I had to. I had other matters to attend to. You seemed busy anyways.”

You let out a breath as your hand grabs ahold of his, his jaw twitched again and he blinks. He gives you a gentle squeeze. His other hand comes up to brush across your cheekbone, the smooth leather is warm against your skin.

The door hisses behind you but you don’t notice. Rey is standing there, her eyes widen with fear but she stands strong. “Get away from her.” She growls her hand on the lightsaber. His eyes rise up from your face as he notices her, his jaw clenching in anger. 

His hands drop from you as he pushes you behind him, his hand also goes on his lightsaber hilt. “You took her from me!” He yells, his foot going forward into a fighting stance.

He grabs his lightsaber and ignites it. Rey holds her ground as he runs towards her, he swings the red blade at her head but she completely dodges it by leaning backward; A Jedi move. His feet slide across the cold floor as he stops himself and turns around angrily. Her lightsaber is on now, the blue clashes with the red when she swings at him.

You cover your mouth as you watch them fight, the loud vibrations of the weapons intensify every time they connect. Sparks fly everywhere as they fight, both of their faces are furrowed in anger. 

He swings at her, almost missing her but it hits her upper bicep making her cry out. “Stop!” You scream. Just as their sabers go to crash together, your hands go out and your eyes squeeze shut. 

Nothing happens, the vibrations of their sabers are still there but nothing else happens.

You peek open your eyes, seeing the sabers in mid-air with an unseen force blocking them from touching. Rey lets go of hers and so does Kylo as they step back in shock. You’re in shock too. Swiftly, you summon them to your hands. The red and blue hue of the light falls over your features as you look at them. You’ve never held a lightsaber before. Kylo’s saber was crackling and hissing at you while Rey’s was calm. 

How did you take his from him if he isn’t actually here? Will it disappear when he leaves?

Your fingers run over the ridges of metal on them both as you press the buttons to turn them off. The bright colors fall back into the base of the weapon.

“Enough.” Your voice is strong as you look at them both. “Enough with all this! I know neither of us believes in the same things but why do we have to try and kill each other?!” You yell, now Poe comes out with Chewy as he looks between you and Rey. He can’t see Ren.

You look over at Kylo, tears welling in your eyes again. “I just don’t understand.” You sniffle as you shake your head and wipe your tears on your sleeve. When you look up, Kylo gulps and averts your gaze. You can tell he is a bit emotional, Rey is too but she is showing it more as tears run freely down her cheeks.

Poe just stares as he looks between you both, he’s so confused. Then he notices the lightsabers in your hands and how one of them is a crossguard.

“Is he here? Where is he?!” Poe looks around, grabbing ahold of his blaster.

Then Kylo begins to move, he takes long confident strides past Rey and Poe. His dark eyes are on you and only you.

Poe’s eyes widen, he sees him now. “Stop!” He yells, veins popping out on his forehead. Chewy grumbles loudly at the dark figure moving quickly towards you. 

Kylo’s large stature towers over you as he leans down to capture your lips in his while his hand rests on his lightsaber. His other hand finds its way to the dip of your waist as he kisses you.

Poe pulls the trigger, the blaster bullet travels towards Kylo’s back as your hand cards through his thick hair. When Kylo realizes that Poe has pulled the trigger, he turns around to stop it but he’s too late. The bullet goes right through Kylo as if he is transparent, he winces as if it really did hit him. Instead, the blast hits your shoulder. 

The power of the bullet knocks your body off balance, sending you down towards the ground. Rey’s lightsaber falls from your hand as you land on your side, body bouncing off of the concrete. You’re in shock. It burns, it hurts so bad.

Kylo whips around, his eyes frantic as he watches you fall. Poe’s face goes into a panic and he pales, the blaster falls from his hand and Chewy roars loudly.

Ren drops to his knees, sliding his hand underneath your head. “I’m gonna die. I can’t die.” You sob, your hand going to grasp your wound but Kylo stops your hand. You can see the steam in your peripheral vision floating up from the hole, blood is all over the ground and his gloves. 

“It’ll be okay.” Kylo begins to fade from your vision, and you reach out and try to grab him but you get nothing as he disappears. Rey runs up to you, dropping to your side to inspect the wound. It’s deep, it’s messy and very bloody.

“Chewy! We need to get her to the med bay now!” She screams as she cries. She doesn't want to see you struggle. The Wookie runs over to you and easily scoops up your body and begins to run towards the med ward. You can see that everyone in the command room has flooded out to see what all the commotion was about. 

Rey gets up and follows close behind him.

Once Chewbacca makes it there, you’ve already passed out on the way. Your limp body is laid on a medical cot. The doctors tend to you quickly, trying to patch up what skin you have left since the plasma has burned your skin severely.

You wake up from the pain, letting out a cry. Rey and Chewy were kicked out of the room so they work on you more easily.

One nurse checks the babies, using the wand again to see them on the screen. More people rush by your side, you can barely hear what they are saying but it sounds frantic. “We need to operate quickly to save your babies. Their heart rates are dropping.” One of the doctors gets close to your face to talk to you.

That sentence makes your heart drop as you start to panic even more now, “Get them out. They have to live.” You say through your sobbing. One of the nurses sprays bacta on your bullet would and wraps it in a bandage as well as putting your arm in a sling.

The medical team wheels you down to another room with more supplies for the delivery. They lay you on a table and a nurse droid comes up to the end of the table to assist in delivering the babies.

Some members of the team leave the room to give the doctor some space to situate you. “We don’t have time to sedate you or administer pain medicine.” The doctor said and you just nod. “Just get. them. out.” You say through gritted teeth.

The droid sets up a barrier where you can’t see past your lower half, you can feel the droid pull off your pants and shoes and put your legs in stir-ups to prepare.

The droid starts to prod at you and get your body ready for the delivery of the twins.

Someone’s hand goes to brush the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead away, they’re so gentle. You look over and see Leia with a smile on her face. She grabs your hand and brings it to her mouth to kiss it. “Leia... I’m so happy you’re here.” You hiccup out, tears slide down your face and she wipes them away. “No need to be sad. You’re gonna see your babies soon. You got this.”

The droid begins to command you to push, you bear down with your chin to your chest as you push as hard as you can. The droid counts down from ten, leaving you breathless and tired when you finish. You let out a cry of pain as a contraction rips through your whole body, you push again.

The droid isn’t helping the pain as they reach to grab the baby and pull them out carefully. The cry of the first baby calms you, making you sob even more. “It’s a boy,” Leia says with a teary smile.

“Anakin...” You murmur with a big smile. Leia is taken aback by the choice, “Like my father?” She smiles and you nod in agreement. One of the human nurses brings Anakin around to show him to you, his abdomen sucks in as he cries.

The droid begins to command you to push but you’re too weak. You try but you stop halfway, your head lolls to side but Leia keeps you awake. “One more to go.”

You muster up any strength you have to push the last baby out, letting out a hoarse scream.

The droid reaches again and pulls her out, she doesn’t cry as loud but she is responsive.

You take a deep breath then you cry and laugh at the same time. “Ellie.” You breathe out as they show her to you. She is much smaller than Anakin. The happiness from seeing your children couldn’t beat anything though. They’re tiny so they bring them both over to a station to care for them.

Leia grabs your hand even tighter and shakes it to get your attention. Your head turns to her and she leans in to kiss your sweaty forehead. The nurse droid begins to clean you up, bringing your legs down and taking the barrier away. A warm blanket was laid on your naked legs, the smile on your face is permanent.

Leia lets go of your hand to stand up straight and walk over to the swaddled babies in their cribs. The droid helps you get into a hospital gown, it also pulls up your hair into a bun on top of your head and puts socks on your feet.

You quietly thank it as your bed is wheeled over to the babies, you look at their sweet round faces as they cry.

“They’re perfect. Ellie and Ani.” You reach your only working arm over to drag your index fingers down their smooth cheeks, they instantly calm down as you cherish them. 

They don’t look identical. Ani has dark black hair like his father, by what you can see that's peeking out of his little hat. He also has Kylo’s nose and your lips. Ellie has your hair color but not as much as Ani. She has Kylo’s lips and your nose and his almond-shaped eyes.

It baffles you how they both have a little bit of each parent. They couldn’t be more perfect. Leia gently picks up Ani and lays him in your arm, your hand that sticks out of the sling gently tickles his hand and he grabs onto your finger so tight.

Leia grabs Ellie and rocks her gently, they are both so calm down. You felt tears fall from your eyes, you don’t know if they’re sad or happy. You wish Kylo could be here to experience this with you, to hold his children and take care of them.

Leia notices how you’re upset, she frowns and reaches her other hand to lay on your shoulder as tears silently roll down your cheeks.

“Maybe he’ll have a change of heart when he sees his children,” Leia says, but she’s just giving you false hope. The First Order is what he has dreamt of. All the power he has is his dream.

He definitely has conflict in him though. Especially because you’re here with the Resistance and he’s somewhere on a giant ship in space searching for you. He’s technically your sworn enemy.

The Force needs to bring him to you, bring you both together again someway, somehow. You’re destined for each other.

tags: @officiallpeterparker @funnysadshit @ymariejp @attorneyl @fangirl570 @trinityrud20 @kylos-sassy-cousin @delicatelyherdreams @fizzywoohoo @savvy7392 @angelias134 @that-girl-named-alex @cas-backwards-tie @glimmering-darling-dolly @glitterypinkkitty @blxkstar @his-snow-white-queen @elsasshole @smiithys @nanocoool @deathbyarabbit @alex-skr @theholycakehole @averillian @crazynocturnalkiki @arcanebabe @tinydancer40 @superduckypower @boba-bliss