#telling them that story and making me show my scars/chest

[boomalope-pope]

Hey guys, have you noticed how a lot of your personal issues relate back to how your parents treated you as a child, that's fucked up

[jasntodds]

Scars [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort

Words: 1,765

A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.

Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.

You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.

It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.

With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.

You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.

With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“This okay?” You ask softly.

“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”

Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.

You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”

Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.

“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.

Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.

"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.

"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.

Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.

That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.

Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.

“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.

He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.

“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”

Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.

Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.

His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.

Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.

Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile X

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie it was a difficult chapter because Reader's psyche is changing but without this I loved this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did ! There is fluff but beware there are racism, killing envy and blood. But nothing too bad I think... yet. I really hope you'll love it, it's the turning point of the story !

You woke up against Alastor's naked chest, still enveloped in blankets. You could feel him playing with your hair while humming a song you’ve heard on the radio. You tilted your head toward him, watching his face wearing his usual smile. 

“ Hello, dear.” he whispered. You kissed his cheeks and put your head back against his warm chest. You could feel his body being more tense than usual, maybe being almost naked against each other made him uncomfortable? You tried to sit up but he pushed your head against his chest once again. “ Stay…”

You hummed, caressing his scars. It was strange, the skin color was different depending if there were scars but you were surprised by how smooth it was. You couldn’t tell the difference between his scars and his skin. 

“ Who did this to you..?” you whispered. Even though you both were alone in the cottage, cut from the outside world by the snowstorm you didn’t want to break the comfortable and quiet atmosphere. You felt like, if you began to talk louder, Alastor would shield himself from you. You felt him take a big deep breath before speaking a word you couldn't help but expect.

“ My father.” He sighed.

“ Do you wish to talk about it?”

“ What is there to tell, dear? The man who owned the title of being my father had my mother pregnant, he wanted to be a perfect man so he married her.  It was a gamble that failed. I was born and he would beat me or my mother if we were acting a little too “ black” for him, with his belt, his fists, cold water and so many other things. He teached me how to hunt, how to kill, how to hurt… I know so many things that would make you run away from me, my dear friend…” he hugged you tighter.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this angry. The man you have met many times, the very man who hurted Alastor, has always been close to you and you’ve never seen it. You tried not to imagine Alastor being alone in his room being beaten hard by his father while trying not to cry while holding onto Eamon. Had you hurted him when you would smash into his arms for a hug? Had you hurted him when you would jump on his back because you didn’t want to be walking because you were oh so tired. Why didn’t you realize that Eamon’s fur was getting redder and redder because Alastor was bleeding on him because of his father. Why did you not realize that Alastor didn’t want to let Marie alone in this house because there was a demon living among them.

“ Dear?”

“ I hope he dies during the war.”

There was a silence before Alastor tilted your head by your chin toward his face. His eyes had the same warm glint but there was something else, something darker that seemed to try to stay hidden. He was looking at you, observing you like he was searching for some kind of answer. You tried to show how angry you were, you wanted your eyes to give the answer Alastor was looking for. 

“ And if I told you I didn’t wish for him to be killed during war?”

Your eyes widened. What? 

“ Alastor.. I know he is your father and maybe you still feel some kind of bond with him but you shouldn’t. He doesn’t even deserve to be killed as a soldier, he should be taken by the enemy, tortured until he can’t even spell his own name. Being eaten by dogs. No, it would be bad meat for the dogs. He should just get his members cut off, his tongue eaten by rats, he shou–” you gasped as Alastor kissed you, pressing your body against his own. Why was he kissing you so passionately when you were talking about how his father should die.

He leaned back with a soft smile, that dangerous glint in his eyes back. You tilted your head, you didn't finish talking, it was rude of him.

“ Aah.. Darling, you are…” he sighed in bliss as you felt his nails dug comfortably into your waist.” What if.. What if I told you I didn't want him to be killed because..” he stared at you a moment before speaking again.”  I want to be the one to kill him.”

You shivered even though you were against Alastor’s warm chest and under several blankets. Alastor wanted to kill his own father? You were staring at him while he was observing you, waiting for your reaction. Alastor wanted to kill his own father? Well, you did want the bastard dead and Alastor deserved his revenge but to kill.. to kill another human being…

“ Killing him…? But …”

“ Don’t see him as living being my dear, he isn’t worth the title. Think of it.. Like I’m going to hunt a dangerous animal that needs to be put down. I’m just like your ideal Prince charming , aren’t I? Killing dangerous people for his loved one?” He tilted his head with a soft smile. 

You couldn’t help but nod. What he was saying was true. Killing his father would be a great thing. You were beginning to scared yourself as you felt no remorse or guilt to think about Alastor killing his father, his own blood. Why would you? He didn’t deserve to live after what he had done to Alastor and Marie. The idea didn’t scare you but your thoughts did. Deep inside you, you knew you weren’t scared because this idea was coming from Alastor. You trusted him with your life.

“ How would you kill him?” you asked, curiously. You giggled as he kissed you everywhere on your face. His body, once tense, was beginning to relax a little. You didn’t know what you had done but it seemed like your gave the answer Alastor was waiting for.

“ How I’m going to kill him, you mean. I have many ideas my dear! By knife, rifle or maybe by strangling him?” he pondered as he stared at the ceiling with a happy grin.

“ Won’t he be able to scream if you strangle him?” you asked. You remembered, when you were playing with your cousins, some would play a little too hard and would “strangle” you. You would just scream so your mother would come and scold your cousins.

“ Oh trust me dear, if you do it right, you can’t scream for help.”

“ How do you know?” 

“ Well, I tried to scream for my mother one day.” he smiled at you and you felt angrier than you were minutes ago. His bastard father had strangled Alastor when he was a kid. What a demon! He really didn’t deserve to be alive! “ I have so many ideas!”

“ You know, If you really happened to kill him, I wouldn’t tell a soul… In fact.. If you need me at that moment.. I promise, I’ll be there.” you said sure of yourself. You did not know if you could handle everything but you’ll be by Alastor’s side from the beginning. You didn’t know if you could kill… It was a thought too far from your morals but helping Alastor if he happened to be injured or something else… That, you would do it.

“ Oh dear.. Don’t tell me that, you’re going to make me say things I’m not ready to tell yet.” he sighed dreamily as he tilted his head backwards. Now, that made you curious. What could Alastor be hiding, he just told you he planned to murder his father, what more could you be hiding ? You smiled as you nipped his neck, making him shiver.

“ Like what? Tell me. Tell me!” you smiled as you kept kissing him on his jaws, his cheeks and his nose. “ Come on now, you just told me you wanted to kill your father, what more can’t you tell me ?” you whined before settling against him once more. You closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat. It was fast…

“ Fine… Dearest, once I have killed my father,” you hummed while he took your hand in his. “ Would you marry me?”

…

Oh Lord.

You sat up, staring at him.  He was looking at you, kissing the back of your hand. You were shaking, did he .. did he..?

“ I won’t lie, I still don’t know what Love is about. I just know that I want you to be by my side, I don’t think I could remain sane if I were to see your attention shifting to someone else. Just like Narcissus with his own reflection, I can’t get enough of you and yet I feel so fulfilled when you are by my side. I’m… I think I may be obsessed with you. You are the person who brought my human heart to life, how odd. I know it’s not the love you read about or you wish for.. I don’t even know if this is love. But this is what I feel for you, and I don’t think I’ll be able to feel it for anyone else, heck, I don’t want to feel it for anyone else…I want you caged with me. I want you to think about me just like I’m always thinking about you.” he stared at you, waiting for your answer, caressing your trembling hand. His eyes were shaking but he kept his gaze on you, observing your reactions. “ Would you accept my mad affection?”

You were shaken. You were with Alastor, almost naked, sitting on his pelvis with a blanket around you and a snowstorm outside.You felt hot. So hot. Alastor wanted to marry you. He wanted you to be his wife? It felt like everything clicked in your brain. Each time you were running after him, each time you wanted to make him like you, each time you wanted him to see you as a lady, each time you asked him to let you enter into his mind, each time you felt anger when a woman would come close to him, each time you wanted him to watch you and only you.

You were madly in love and obsessed with Alastor.

You read so many love novels… The prince never asked the princess to marry after telling her he was going to kill his father. The prince never asked the princess to think about him only. Their love was pure, not tainted by obsession, not tainted by the immense need to be by their lover’s side… Their love was not like what was happening right now.

And yet you couldn’t be happier.

You smiled at him, your vision blurry because of the tears blinding your eyes.

“ Alastor.. I may be just a foolish sixteen year old girl. Maybe your obsession will pass when you see I have nothing to offer you but trust me, my affection for you has been present since the day I laid my eyes on you.” you felt him squeeze your hand harder as you continued your confession.” We are both young, so maybe you’ll change your mind. You’ll find a proper woman but I know that you are the only man I wish for in my life. The only man I wish I would marry…” you sobbed as you squeezed his hand back as he stared at you with clear obsession in his eyes. He leaned toward you, whispering against your lips.

“ Say it.. Say it..” he begged.

“ Yes, Alastor, I will marry you.”

He kissed you with a big smile you couldn’t help but imitate. He hugged you against him so hard you felt pain in your chest but you didn't care. You squeezed him as hard as you could, you’ve never felt happier.

“I feel like this is too good to be true…” you heard him say against your skin. You couldn’t help but laugh while wiping your eyes. You leaned back as you took both of his hands in yours.

“ It’s true.. I feel like.. Once we leave this place, everything would be a faraway dream.” you sighed with a soft smile. You felt like you were dreaming right now…

“ I.. May have an idea for that.” he smirked at you as you tilted your head, confused. “ I find myself being interested in voodoo.” he held his hand in front of your mouth as you gasped. “ No worry darling, voodoo is not a barbaric religion. It’s in my blood, I found books about it and where it came from. And, there are some rituals that can bind souls together… Would you like to try it?”

“ For real?” you said, astonished. From what you heard, voodoo was a banned religion because it was witchcraft which came from black people. You didn’t really find yourself into religion, men killed for religion no matter which one. But if voodoo was something Alastor’s looked into and was coming from his ancestors, that could be interesting.

“ Yes indeedy. They wrote it as a curse though but…” you peck his nose before he could continue.

“ Yes, I want to.” you smiled. “ How do we do it?”

“ I don’t have the book with me right now. But it’s very specific.. I’ll need some of your blood.” he said carefully but soon his expression turned to surprise as you ran toward the kitchen and gave back with a knife. “ Well, aren’t you in a hurry to be bound to me body and soul?” he said with a teasing smile.

“ Oh, you are right, we can wait.” you said and smiled delightedly when you saw his expression twitched. You knew that Alastor would be the less patient of the both of you for this kind of thing, for you, which was surprising, he was known to be patient, very patient. “ Here I was, ready to make my ring finger bleed.” you shook your head with a saddened expression. “ How foolish…”

“ Dear…”

“ Seems like I’m in no hurry to become your wife!” you squeaked as Alastor tugged you against his chest with a smile so big it almost looked like inhuman.

“ Dearest, don’t play with me. Not with that.” he gently took the knife from your hand. “ No need for this. If you accepted, I could cut you.” he looked at you, seeming unsure. You tilted your head, cutting yourself seemed scary indeed.

“ It’s going to hurt, right..?” you asked softly.  You watched as he played smoothly  with the knife in his hand. You wished you knew how to do it…

“ I’ll try to make it so you don’t feel anything.” 

“ No. I want to feel it. I want to feel this moment.” you said sure of yourself.  Tonight would mark the first step of becoming Alastor’s wife, body and soul. You would be damned together or go to heaven together, there were no in between. You saw Alastor’s smile widened, it seemed like he was sharing the same feeling as you about this situation.

You looked as he sunk softly the knife’s edge into your skin. You shivered as you bit your lips, you were feeling no pain. You remembered in your romance books, normally the woman would be crying as the prince would pass the ring on her fingers. And yet, here you were, letting Alastor cut your skin and enjoying it. 

He took a napkin from the table and held it against your bleeding finger. 

“ Are you okay?” he asked, observing your reaction once more. You nodded, you don’t think you could feel even better ! He put the napkin on this table with a satisfied smile before you pinned him on the sofa, hugging him against you.

“ I’m the happiest girl in the whole world !” you shouted before leaving the sofa, leaving there a confused smiling Alastor, and you jumped everywhere. You couldn’t wait to tell your mother, your father, Alice ! You squealed in delight as you jumped around under Alastor’s soft gaze.

“ You gave me the best birthday’s present.” he said as he stood up. You grinned at him, his birthday was tomorrow, you needed to prepare the food. Even if you knew nobody would be coming, it was for the better!

You took Marie’s recipes’s book, still with the blankets around you.

“ Let your future wife cook for you!” you smiled confidently.

Alastor let you in the kitchen for 15 minutes before running back because he smelt fire. You just smiled sweetly at him with a burned stove. Alastor sighed with a tender smile before helping you cook. You wanted to try to cook something spicy, that’s why you had asked Alice to bring hot pepper for his birthday.

“ Do you think you could eat one and handle it ?” you teased him. He just looked at you and ate a whole pepper without flinching. You stared at him in shock. He winked at you before giving you a hot pepper with a mocking smile.

“ Could you handle it?”

You scoffed and took the hot pepper in your hands.  If Alastor did it, you could do it! You took the whole hot pepper in your mouth and swallowed it. You waited a little then laughed at Alastor.

“ I had worse at my– Oh my god..” you stopped every movement as your felt pure fire began to grow inside of you. You felt tears streaming down your face as you coughed, holding on Alastor’s arms as he was laughing so hard you could see tears on the side of his eyes. “ Alastor, help me!” you tried to fan your tongue, jumping around as Alastor held himself against the wall, crying of laughter.

“ Haha! Dear, drink milk ! milk!” he laughed as he pointed to the fridge. You ran toward it and slammed its door open. Did you even have milk? Yes! You took the bottle and drank messily the milk until the bottle was half full. “ Oh dear… Would you like a kiss after this horrible experiment?” he smiled as he walked toward you, but as he leaned closer to your face you almost could feel the hot pepper still on his lips.

You ran away, screaming at him. You didn’t want to feel this pain anymore! You were screaming as Alastor ran behind you, his laughter echoing in the little cottage.You couldn’t help but smile, if this scene would represent your future with Alastor, you would love it!

After your battle, easily won by Alastor’s lips against yours, you went back to cooking. Alastor was showing you how to cook and you took notes. It seemed so easy from his movement. You were almost jealous but then you began to smile as you remembered that you would see this scene every day in the future.

“ You have such a big smile dear, does watching me cooking bring you such pleasure?” he asked teasingly. You stuck your tongue at him, you knew he was happier than he let on. His smile was more genuine and his body was more relaxed than you've ever seen him. 

After an hour you went back to the living room, near the fire and ate Alastor’s cooking. You called your mothers to reassure them that everything was good and you were safe. You gossiped, played a few games, like poker and Alastor was way too good about it , you would just throw a pillow at him each time he would wink at you, meaning he knew he had won. You took a nap against Alastor’s chest and when you woke up it was almost midnight. You stood up from his chest and were surprised to see Alastor asleep. Maybe being away from everything, with you had made him relaxed enough that his body could sleep? You smiled and went to the kitchen and took a cake out of the fridge. You tried to make a coffee cake two days ago, you hoped it was still good… You put the candle on the cake and lit them up before walking toward the living room. 

You saw an awaken Alastor turning his head toward you as you sat in front of him on your knees, with a soft smile and whispered in the quiet room.

“ Happy birthday, Alastor”

~~~

“ Happy birthday Alastor!” you all cheered and brough your glasses together. You were in a bar with jazz playing, celebrating the new year and Alastor’s 23th birthday. Alice was there, with some of Alastor’s friends, you didn’t really remember all of their names but one, Mimzy. It was a name you never heard of so it stuck with you.

Alastor has become a real man. He was taller than most people, his frame was deceivingly slim, his smile was as broad as ever, his hair were a little longer than when he was younger and as always , he had his glasses on. He was grinning as everyone congratulated him for his birthday. You looked at Alice with a soft smile.

Alice had changed too. Long gone was the sweet innocent looking girl, she was now a beautiful woman who was confident in any way. She had cut her long hair, now they ended toward her shoulder. She looked at you and winked.

“ Another shot?”

You laughed and nodded but Alastor stood up.

“ My dear friend, what a day to celebrate the new year and myself. I have happy news to share.” all of you looked at Alastor, waiting for him to tell you his news. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a smile, he was such an attention seeker. “ My voice is going to keep you company most of the day as I have been hired in a radio station.” he said with a proud smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. You shouted of pure happiness, standing up so abruptly the chair fell down behind you. You clapped just like the rest of the people around the table.

“ I knew you would do it, sweetie!” said Mizmy, giving him a side hug.

“ I'm paying for another round of shots!” you exclaimed with a big smile. You didn't even wait for everyone to tell you what they wanted. You were already going toward the barman. You were really walking straight but who cared, everyone here was busted. 

“ Heya doll, whatcha want?”

“ Give me your strongest.” you said while pointing to your table. He nodded and you went back to your table who were still praising Alastor. You sat back down next to Alice.

“ Hearing Alastor’s voice all day? Ugh, I’ll have to endure it.” she said with an amused expression. You laughed, Alastor and Alice always say they didn’t like each other but when it was for you, they would team up. 

“ I can’t wait to hear his voice on the radio. You don’t understand, we’ve been waiting for it since childhood!” you said with a nostalgic smile. You remembered your sleepover and your childish broadcast… Aah, how time flies. You smiled as the waitress put the shots on the table with a whole bottle of whiskey. 

“ Order from the house.” she said flirty before leaving. You all took one shot and drank it. You try not to grimace, this one was really strong. You laughed as you saw Alice’s head fall against the table.

“ Oh, this one was a bitch.” 

“ You need more training, love.” you heard Mimzy say to Alice as she tapped her back. You looked at Alastor who didn’t even flinch. He was talking with one of his friends but you knew better… Those friends must be useful in some way. Your expression lifted up as you heard a song you wanted to dance to. You moved Alastor’s friend out of your way and dragged him on the dancefloor. You laughed as he began to spinned you.

“ Are you sure you can handle me in that state, love?” he taunted you as he spinned you back against his broad chest. You winked at him, you may be more than tipsy but you weren’t drunk yet. You could handle him. You began to dance with Alastor, quickly being the center of all attention. You knew every step by heart, Alastor could throw you in the air you would just close your eyes and wait for him to catch once again.

After a lot of dances, you went back to your table as Alastor danced with Mimzy. You sat next to Alice, making air with your hand. So hot.

“ I won’t lie, there is so much tension between you I don’t know how you don’t just.. jump each other when you both are alone.” Alice said before drinking a glass of whiskey.

You laughed, smacking her arms. There have been moments where Alastor and you would make out so intensely you would get ready to give him your virginity but he always said to be patient and wait for your future wedding night even if it was killing you both. You respected his decision, you would wait for your wedding. The only person who knew what had happened in the cottage, the only one who knew about your promise, for Alastor 17th birthday was Alice, who almost broke every damn mirror with her screams.

“ What? Look at you ! You’re like.. ethereal ! And I’m the one saying that.” she said before slipping her hair to one side of her shoulder. You grinned, you did grow up well. Your mother was so proud of you and even your father. When your father had returned from war he was badly injured so you took upon yourself to be his personal nurse. You weren’t a perfect nurse but you knew how to clean wounds, do stitches, you weren’t disgusted by the sight of blood anymore. And to top it all off, you were used to seeing Alastor bring back dead animals from his hunt now. You weren’t the fragile little girl anymore. Something your parents would missed sometimes, but from your friends point of view and even Alastor’s, you could still be endearingly naive.

“ And what about you Alice? The jewel of New Orleans? No one fancied yet?” you smirked before taking a glass of whiskey. Alice had, as always, so many people who threw themselves to her feet but she didn’t care. 

“ No, which is infuriating , look at me ! Poor little me being single!” she groaned as you laughed before hugging her. You knew Alice would find someone, she deserved it!

You kept celebrating until 3 am before you knew it was time for you to go. You were tired and you knew you would have to take care of your father if needed. He was doing well but he couldn’t stay still so he went to work with the police. What a stubborn man. You kissed Alice on her cheek and smiled when you felt a warm hand on your back.

“ Ready to go, dearest?” Alastor smiled at you, he already had his jacket on his arm. You nodded and said your goodbye before leaving the bar. You were staring at Alastor’s handsome punchable face. He looked down at you with a teasing grin. “ Yes ?”

“ Nothing.. I’m just admiring your face.”

“ Oh, please, do continue.” he chuckled as he walked you to your home. In front of your door you hugged him as he kissed your forehead. You began to turn away from him, ready to catch some sleep but he took your hands.

“ I say I had good news right?”

“ Yes, you are now a radio host.” you smiled before giving him a peck on his lips. “ I’m so proud of you. We’ve been waiting for this, haven't we?”

“ We have, indeedy, dearest. But I have some other news, for both of us.” He took your hand toward his mouth and kissed the back of it, staring into your soul.

“ My father is coming back.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[imtryingbuck]

Eighteen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 5,786

Warnings: fluff, angst, heavy use of pet names. eating humans (doesn’t happen obviously and it’s only said as a joke) mentions of cheating, mentions of past suicide attempt

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

It had been three years since she was last at home, three years at private school and it was amazing for her. 

She made friends with two of the girls there Natasha and Wanda, they had introduced themselves to her first and Wanda shyly had asked if Y/n would like to be their friend, she hesitated at first but eventually said yes which brought a huge smile to Wanda’s face and a shy smile to Nat’s.

They accepted her with open arms and Nat even enjoyed playing in the mud and climbing trees with Y/n. When that fateful day came where they saw her scars she panicked and knew that they wouldn’t want to be her friends anymore but instead of judgemental or looks of horror Wanda burst out crying and pulled her in to a bone crushing hug whilst Nat stood there cursing in Russian. For the first time since James she opened up to what had happened to her.

Not even Steve knew the whole story, especially not Sam. Sam had heard things but chose not to listen; he chose to wait until she had said something herself.

Once she had finished telling them everything she was comforting the two red heads reminding them that she was okay now.

It had felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and for the first time she felt like she could breathe.

If you saw one of the girls the other two was close behind.

Throughout the three years that had passed she had heard about Bucky, Sam and Steve from her parents. The boys had showed up a few days after she had left so James could apologise and when they found out she had gone James started to cry, Steve and Sam too. When she heard about that she wanted to go back home to make up with her boys fighting with herself on whether or not she should but ultimately she decided that she wasn’t going anywhere. James had made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t her friend and that he never wanted to be in the first place.

It was a hard decision for her to make but luckily she had Nat and Wanda by her side supporting her.

Now that school was over she was heading back home, she had decided she didn’t want to go to college and after a bit of back and forth with her parents - especially her mom - they agreed to let her do what she wanted to do.

“We’ll see each other in a month Wands don’t cry” she says hugging Wanda who was in fact balling her eyes out.

“A month is so long away an-and what will I do if I’ve forgotten your face or-or your voice?” Ever so dramatically Wanda cried.

“Really? Really Wands it’s four weeks you’re not going to forget anything about me and if you do I’ll have to punch you in the arm”

“Please don’t, but you’re right. I’ll just have to go on living without you my friend, go go leave and don’t look back, I don’t think my heart could take it” Wanda says bringing one hand across her face and the other clutching her chest.

Y/n looks at Nat who stands there with one eyebrow raised “this…this is our best friend”

“I know. Wand why do you have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Hey I’m not dramatic I’m traumatised!”

Nat and Y/n burst out laughing, shaking their heads at the red head. “Traumatised? Wanda I love you but you my friend are so dramatic”

“I’m trying to be…emotional and romantic well not romantic because even though I love you Y/n I have to admit baby girl you’re not my type”

“Don’t say that-“ Nat says quickly but gets cut off.

“I-I’m not y-your type? H-how dare you!”

“Great just great, look everyone these two weirdo’s are my best friends!” Nat shouts pointing at her friends.

“I have to be honest with myself Y/n/n okay, I can’t keep lying to you it-it’s not fair, I’m sorry” Wanda says in a wobbly voice.

“No, no I understand. I’m just not good enough for you and that’s the truth! Don’t keep lying to yourself Wanda!”

“Guys please stop…” Nat butts in.

“Great you’ve upset our daughter!” Wanda shouts throwing her hands in the air.

“Me? Me? Well guess Wanda she might not even be yours! That’s right I cheated on you with your father!”

“W-what? H-how could you? I loved you”

“But you don’t love me anymore now the truth can be out there!”

“To be fair Wanda could possibly be my dad because we both have red hair…”

“She gets her attitude from you Y/n, how could you do this to us?”

“Us? You’re the one that literally just said I wasn’t your type!”

“Guys please, I don’t want to come from a broken home”

“Oh Natty come here sweetie me and your maybe father was just playing” Y/n says opening her arms for Nat to shuffle into. Wanda then wraps her arms around the pair.

“Well ladies that was a very moving performance if I do say so myself but it’s time for you to break it up and leave” Mr Walters says from the steps leading up to the school.

“Right, sorry sir. Emotional day” Y/n speaks first.

“A lot of truth came out sir, we needed it” Wanda then says.

“Wanda might not be my father sir, I’m so depressed” Nat shrugs.

“I’m…I’m actually traumatised because of you three. Thanks for that.”

“Rude. Well goodbye sir, thanks for being the best teacher ever!” Y/n waves.

“Bye ladies, good luck with everything” he says walking back in to the school, he had to admit that he was going to miss seeing the trio and miss their antics.

“You’re such a teacher’s pet” Nat laughed.

“It’s called respect madam, something you clearly don’t have for your mother!”

“Y/n, baby it’s time to go” Maria interrupts whatever Nat was going to say.

“Coming. Well ladies I guess this is it, it’s been a pleasure knowing you but this is where the curtains close, I bid you adieu.” Y/n bows.

“And I’m called dramatic” rolling her eyes Wanda bows too.

“Alright guess I’ve got to do the same” Nat follows along.

“But no in all seriousness I’m so glad I met you and I’m forever grateful to the pair of you”

“Always Y/n you know this, we’ll always be friends no matter what and we’ll see each other next month” Nat said as she pulls Y/n into a hug.

“I love you both” Wanda says wrapping her arms around her friends.

Pulling away they all smile at each other.

“Last one to their parents cars are a rotten egg in 3…2…1” 

They take off running to their parents; Y/n first, Nat second and Wanda third.

“No fair! You guys know I’m terrible at running!” Wanda shouts from her parents’ car.

The drive home was filled with conversations, laughter and catching up. It had been six months since they had seen her in that six months she looked more grown up, more sure of herself, happier.

Maria couldn’t help but smile as her daughter rambled on about what her and her friends had been getting up to. Amazed by how she looked so much like her mama, Maria made it her sole mission to make sure Y/n got a few photographs of her and her mama from the hell hole of a house she grew up in. Maria had kept one for herself it was a photo of Y/n who was roughly three or four years old with her arms wrapped around her mamas neck who had a baby Y/n in her arms as they stood outside a cabin, both smiling widely as the camera captured a beautiful moment between mother and daughter.

It was only after seeing that photograph that Maria understood where Y/n had gotten her crazy unruly hair from, Maria knew that Y/n was blessed to have taken her looks and traits from such a beautiful woman.

Y/n didn’t know that her momma would go to her mamas grave and put fresh flowers down every weekend or how she would sit on the hard ground and speak to the woman she never met before and talk for hours telling her how their daughter was growing, how she was cheeky and caring, how smart she was. Or how just before she would leave the grave where her birth mom laid Maria would place a kiss to her fingers and place them on the headstone and say “thank you my friend” because yes even though she had never met the woman and that she was no longer alive she had become Maria’s friend, and every time she thanked the woman it was for giving her a wonderful gift, Y/n.

“-mom? Momma are you even listening?” Y/n says.

“Oh, sorry darling yes I’m listening”

“No you weren’t but it’s okay I was just saying that Nat had found a rat in her bag and she screamed so loudly it nearly burst my eardrums”

“To be truthful I would have done the same thing” Maria chuckles.

“I know! I had to calm it down because it had gotten scared, I mean well so would I if I had Nat screaming and trying to hit me with a bag” Y/n giggles.

Shaking her head she was so happy that Y/n had Nat and Wanda as friends, they treat her good and were really amazing friends to her daughter. When she met the two red heads she was taken back by watching their dynamic and how well Y/n fit in so perfectly.

“Natasha’s reaction was perfectly justifiable” she points out.

“That’s true but she could have calmed down, I was there and we all know I’m great at talking to animals and calming them down” she smirks.

“Very true angel, listen…please don’t be mad-“

“No…dad you both promised!”

“It wasn’t our idea angel but George’s and Winnie’s, darling they’ve missed you-“

“A party dad? I suck at those things”

“It’s not a party but more like a get together-“

“So a party. Uncle George and Aunt Winnie don’t do “get togethers” dad and you know that”

“Well it’s happening and you’re going to enjoy it, you’re going to smile and have a good time and you’ll thank George and Winnie afterwards” Howard speaks.

“Yes Master”

“Good boy”

“Treat?”

“Not yet”

“Do you want me to give you my paw?”

“Mar our dog talks way too much, I told you we should have gone with a German shepherd and not a Chihuahua”

“Oi I’m not a Chihuahua! If I had to be a dog I probably would be basset hound…”

“Why?”

“They’re so cute and lazy and small”

Howard lets out a booming laugh as he nods, Y/n joins in whilst Maria looks at the driver who’s trying not to laugh “would you be a dear and crash the car for me please?”

“No don’t, I can’t get a treat if I’m dead” Y/n laughs out causing Howard to laugh even louder.

“‘A get together’ yeah alright dad! It’s like the whole world is here” she scoffs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, come on and don’t forget to smile”

Half of the people who had showed up she didn’t even know and the ones she did were either nice to her or people who helped to torment her but doing as her father said she smiled at everyone, saying her thanks when people congratulated her for graduating school.

“My sweetie!” Winnie’s loud voice came from across the garden, Y/n watched at the woman who she’s missed dearly nearly runs over to her.

“Miss Winnie, I’ve missed you!” She wraps her arms around her third mother figure.

“I’ve missed you too my sweet baby, oh look at you! All so grown up and so bloody beautiful, where’s that’s little girl who broke my heart all them years ago gone?”

“I killed her and buried her in the backyard but don’t tell my momma or dada that” she giggled.

“I won’t don’t worry your secrets safe with me” Winnie winked.

“Is-is that…no I don’t believe my eyes. It’s my darling girl!” George shouts ignoring all the looks that get thrown his way as he makes his way over to Y/n and Winnie.

“Hi Mr George”

“Oh my, you’re as beautiful as ever!” He picks her up and spins her around just as he did when she was little “oof and your heavier”

“George!” Winnie scolds.

“What have they been feeding you at that school hey missy?” He asks completely ignoring his wife.

“Humans from all over the world” she winks with a shoulder shrug.

“Are they nice? I’ve been thinking of getting into eating humans” 

“Honestly? I recommend that you should, tasty” she laughs, George and Winnie joining in.

“On a serious note though, I’ve missed you darling and I’m so proud of you. And please remember I love you, you’ve always been our daughter too. Oh God I’m so fucking proud of you” George says with tears in his eyes as he remembers the first day he met her, how small and scruffy she was, how scared she look. After what that monster did to her he was scared that she wasn’t going to survive. It’s true though, he and Winnie saw her as their daughter before Howard and Maria adopted her.

“I love you both too and I will forever be indebted to you both”

“Nonsense silly girl” Winnie says.

“Are you trying to steal my daughter away?” Howard laughs as he walks over.

“Obviously, the plan is to knock you and Maria out and I’m going to kidnap this one” George says.

Howard laughs which has George turning to Y/n “he thinks I’m joking, but I’m not”

“Don’t wind him up” she laughs.

She’s oblivious to the conversation that’s happening on the other side of the garden as she laughs with her parents and surrogate parents.

“My sweetie!” He hears his mother call out and he knows instantly that Y/n has arrived as he looks in the direction his mother is making her way over to his breath gets caught in his throat.

His Bunny.

His Bunny all grown up.

His Bunny all grown up and looking just as beautiful as she looked the last time he saw her.

There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by where he hadn’t regretted this shit that spewed out of his mouth that day. When he found out that she had left it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on a million times.

Of course he was never friends with her out of pity, she was easy to talk to, she made him laugh, she was his best friend, his person.

His soulmate as Winnie would say.

But every day he reminded himself that he only had himself to blame.

“I-is that…” Steve questioned with his eyes trained on his best friend who he hasn’t seen in three years.

“Bunny” Bucky nods.

“Holy shit she’s gorgeous” Sam says.

“Yeah she is” Bucky agrees.

“When are you going to talk to her?” Steve asks.

“I’m not. She’s not going to want to talk to me, not after what I said the last time we saw each other”

“That was three years ago Buck, it’s Y/n she’s no doubt forgiven you”

“I doubt it. Steve you have no idea how sad she looked man”

“Bro just go and talk to her” Sam says taking a sip of his beer.

“I-I can’t, are you two going to talk to her?”

“Yeah…well I was going to wait for her reaction with you first before making my way over to her” Steve admits.

“Same if she hits you then I’m staying away but if she doesn’t then yeah of course I’ll talk to her”

“Cheers” Bucky grumbles his eyes refusing to move away from her.

They all watch as she laughs with her parents and Bucky’s, they don’t stop the smile from forming onto their lips as they watch their best friend.

They all carried their own guilt from three years ago and all silently hope that she forgives them for what happened.

“Buck go and talk to her” Steve tries to encourage his friend mainly so he could then talk to her.

“Yeah…yeah I’m going to do it” he puts his drink down on the table before straightening his shirt out.

Just as he was about to take that first step closer to his Bunny he stutters when he sees a tall bulky guy with blonde hair walk up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, watching as she squeals turning around in the guys hold.

He watches as she places her hands on either side of his face and places her lips to his.

He’s pretty certain that he hears his heart breaking.

“Buck…”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“A-are you alright?”

“I’m fine, so she’s got a boyfriend that’s cool” he turns to pick his drink back up and downs it in one gulp. “Do-do you think she’s happy?”

Steve and Sam share a look before answering. “We’re not sure pal”

“I hope she is, t-that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

They continue to watch as Y/n introduces the guy to Bucky’s parents and they can tell instantly that Winnie’s smile is fake, she’s always been the one rooting for Y/n and James to get together. The smile on Y/n’s face is as big as it ever was as she stares up at the guy.

“How do you think they met?” Bucky asks.

“God knows, but as long as he treats her right that’s all that matters really.” Sam says eyeing Bucky cautiously.

“I hope so”

As the party winds down the boys not barely moving apart from Sam as he raids the table with all the food on it. They watch as the blonde guy leaves, not without having a make out session with Y/n.

As the guests start leaving Bucky’s quick to notice that Y/n is no longer around and when George stumbles over to the boys he finds out that Y/n’s disappeared and wonders if they had seen her, they all shake their heads.

“I think I might know where she is, hold on”

He makes his way down to the bottom of the garden and climbs over the fence, really hoping he was right.

“Bunny” he whispers when he sees her sitting on the ground in the spot they claimed as theirs, the same spot he first laid eyes on her when he was just seven years old.

“Hi James” she whispers back keeping her back to him.

“C-can I sit next to you?”

“Sure”

For the first time since the two have known each other they sit side by side in uncomfortable silence. It pains the both of them that this is how it’s come down to this.

But unfortunately it had.

“So-um-how are you?” Bucky asked as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m good, what about you?”

“Good, that’s good. I-I’ve missed you Bunny” he admits, his heart squeezing when he sees her flinching.

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know why you would have missed me when you didn’t want me to be your friend anymore or ever”

“I didn’t mean it Bun I swear. I was angry an-and I took it out on you, I’ve regretted it ever since”

“Why was you angry? I’m the one that had my back exposed to the whole school and the three people who were my only friends, the only people I trusted more than anything didn’t try and stop it or-or even try and help me. You had no right in being angry James” he hates how she doesn’t raise her voice and hates that she calls him James.

“I know and I’m sorry Y/n I really am”

“It’s okay I guess.”

“No it’s not! None of the shit I said or didn’t do was okay, you’re my best friend Bun and I should have stuck up for you. I shouldn’t have said I chose Dot over you because you always came first no matter what”

“It’s okay because it doesn’t matter anymore, I got over it”

“Over it or over me?”

“Honestly? Both”

Bucky released a choking sob at her admission, she had gotten over him and he didn’t know what to do. “Bun-“

“You shouldn’t call me that James, don’t want to upset your girlfriend”

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend”

“What happened with Dot?”

“She-I walked in on her having sex with Brock”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she said it was a one time thing but he said they’d been at it for months so…”

“I’m sorry, I never liked her”

“Did you even know her?”

“No…what kind of name is Dot anyway?”

“It’s short for Dolores” he laughed.

“Stupid name for a stupid girl. How long were you two dating for?”

“A year, actually walked in on them the day after our one year anniversary”

“That’s cold”

“Yeah. What about you? Lover boy back there” he watches as her cheeks start to turn red and a shy smile on her lips, his heart pounds loudly in his chest at the sight.

“His names Pietro, w-we’ve been dating for five months now”

“How did you two meet?”

“He’s actually my best friends twin brother, we met when her family came up to see Wanda and she introduced us and yeah, he asked me out on a date and then another and another then he asked me out”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does, well when he’s not talking with his mouth full” she giggled, and for the first time in over three years she looks up at him. Breath gets caught in her throat as he’s looking just as beautiful as he looked the last time she saw him.

“I’m glad, not about the food in mouth when he talks thing but I’m glad he makes you happy”

Not knowing how to reply they fell back into silence but this time it was comfortable.

Y/n was the first one to break the silence “do you know if anyone lives in my old house?”

“No one wanted to move in after…you know”

“Oh. Have you ever been there?”

“Once, I didn’t go in or anything I just stood outside”

“When?”

“A few months after you left. I’m not sure why I did it but” Y/n stood up and held her hand out for James to take and helped him stand, pulling her hand away from his once he was stood up she started to walk in the direction of her old home.

“Come on slow pokes” she called over her shoulder.

“Y/n are you sure about this?”

“My therapist said that it might help me to be able to finally move on”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Yeah, mom said it might help after what I did”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I tried to kill myself” she shrugged.

As she carried on walking she hadn’t realised that Bucky had stopped. She had tried to end her life and no one told him. Bucky had lost her as his friend and nearly lost her in this world completely and no one told him.

“Ducky?”

His heart stopped at that name.

“Duck? Come on we’re not that far now”

“Y-you called me Ducky”

“Well yeah that’s your name isn’t it?” She smirked.

“Bunny please don’t joke about this. You called me Ducky even though we’re not friends anymore”

“You’ll always be Ducky to me James. And who said we’re not friends anymore?”

“We-we aren’t?”

“Nope, we said we’d be friends forever and forever hasn’t ended yet so therefore our friendship is still intact, come”

“B-but what I said”

“It’s in the past”

“Can we go back to being Bunny and Ducky again?”

“Well of course, that’s if you actually did want to be my friend and not just doing it out of pit-“

A loud squeal echoed through the woods as Bucky charged at her picking her up as if she weighed nothing and spun her around. “I never meant what I said Bun never not for one second, please forgive me and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you”

“Buy me an ice cream and all is forgiven”

Laughing he puts her down slowly and nods “I can do that. Bun”

“Yeah”

“Yo-you tried to kill yourself?”

“Yeah, it was about a year ago”

“Why did you try and do it? Why wasn’t I told?”

“I was in a dark place Duck, remember my special place?-“ she taps the side of her head and watches as he nods “-well it wasn’t special anymore and-well I don’t want to get in to it but it got bad so I wanted to end it”

Rolling her sleeves up she showed Bucky the two angry long scars on her arms, he slowly reached out and gently glided a finger down the scars. “Nat found me in the bathroom and screamed out for Wanda who went and got a teacher, Mr Walters came running and picked me up rushed me to the schools nurse and I was taken to the hospital when an ambulance arrived. My parents were called and I begged them not to tell anyone that included your parents Ducky, they don’t know.”

“Bunny…”

“I’m okay now though, yeah I have bad days still but it’s not as bad as it had been and Dr Cho is incredible, she’s so sweet and she’s never once judged me about anything and she makes me laugh, oh and she always has sweets!”

“I should have been with you Bun, I’m so sorry I let you down”

“Hey none of that! It’s not your fault at all, mental health is a bitch-shit-fuck-please don’t tell momma I swore!”

“You still don’t swear?” Bucky laughs.

“No momma says it’s unladylike”

“You? A lady?” He has to stop walking and bends over with laughter.

“Oh shut up! I could be a lady”

“Never!”

Y/n knows it’s true herself but that was beside the point.

“Shut up. Come on I need your support to get this over and done with”

“I’m coming Bun, are you sure you want me here with you?”

“Always”

The rest of the walk was done in silence and before she realises she’s standing in front on the wired fence surrounding her old home. Looking at Bucky she musters a smile that he knows is fake and presses down on the fence and climbs over.

Waiting for Bucky to do the same she stares at the slowly decaying building that’s haunted her nightmares since she was seven years old. The ivy wraps itself around the house, windows are smashed from either Mother Nature, kids playing in the woods or animals. For some reason the building looks just like it’s supposed to - a building. She feels quite silly for letting it terrorise her dreams now that she’s standing in front of it, it doesn’t seem so scary now.

“Bun, we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to” Bucky’s gentle voice came from next to her.

“No I’ve got to, I’ve got to put the monster to bed once and for all. It’s-it-can we just wait out here for a few minutes, please?”

“Of course Bun. I’m right here”

A few minutes go by and she finally puts one foot out in front of the other, taking slow steps towards the place she once called home a very long time ago now. Her chest starts to feel tighter as she got closer to her nightmare.

Pushing the door open Bucky stepped up first knocking the cobwebs out of the way before moving back to where he was before.

“Thanks” she whispered.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. She chanted softly to herself as she forced her feet to move forward.

It was weird. As she walked further into the cabin she saw the small dinning table laying on its side, the two chairs broken and the small dingy couch still in the same spot as they were that night her father nearly killed her.

The floorboards creaked under their feet as they moved around the place.

“Th-this is where it happened” she whispers to Bucky as they stand in the middle of the room.

“Bun-“

“That’s my blood Duck” she points to the faded blood stains on the floor.

“Bun-“

“It’s creepy isn’t it? I laid right there and was on my way to play with angels before the cops showed up and now my blood is stained into the wood”

“Bun look at me, come on Bun look at me. Good, it’s okay. It’s all okay”

“I-I know it’s just creepy isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it is”

“Can I show you my room?”

“Okay”

Walking down the hallway she comes to a stop in front of the first door on the right and she starts to push the wooden door open, both wincing as the hinges squeak.

“Nothings changed in here ah” Y/n moves over to the tiny desk her mama had gotten her she smiles “look…”

“It’s a stick Bun”

“Ah nope it’s not any old stick Ducky, it’s the stick you picked up the second time we met”

“What? Really, you kept it?”

“Of course aha. Hey can you help me move this?”

“Sure”

They move the desk - well Bucky did whilst Y/n stands there and watches - Y/n thanks him before kneeling down on the floor and started to lift up the floorboard smiling in victory when she sees the metal tin her mama had put there when she was five.

“What is it?”

“This, this has my toys that my mama hid so that he wouldn’t break them” she sits with her legs crossed and smiles up at Bucky as he sits across from her.

“Toys?”

“Yeah, but not any old toys Duck, no these are animal toys-look” she groans as she pulls the lid open “this is a giraffe, this is a sheep? no a goat, and an elephant-“ she lists off all the animals in the box as she blindly hands them over to Bucky who’s sitting there with his eyes fixed on her, the way her smile lights up makes his heart tingle, the way she sounds so happy brings a smile to his face. It had been so long since her saw her shine so brightly.

“And here’s a photo of me and mama”

Taking the photo his eyes bounce from the photo to her, it was the first time since he was either eight or nine that he’d seen a photo of his Bunnies mom “you look just like her”

“No, she’s beautiful”

“Exactly.” He smiles when her cheeks start to go red. “Hey do you have anything of your mamas?”

“Just photos” she shrugs.

“Come” he helps her put all the toy animals back in the tin and stands, helping her raise too he takes her hand and asks “is this her room?”

“Yeah why?”

“Let’s see if there’s anything of hers still here so you can have them”

“Duck…”

“It’s okay Bunny” he opens the door instantly shutting it before placing his body in front of the door.

“James?”

“I-I-we can’t go in there Bun”

“I know. Is there still blood?”

“You know?”

“Yeah, that’s the reason why he nearly killed me that night. I tried to find my mama and went into her room and well, yeah”

“Oh Bun”

“It’s okay, I want to go in it might help me feel closer to my mama if I have something of hers”

“Just don’t look at the bed okay baby”

Baby. Her heart shouldn’t stutter the way it did.

“Okay”

Bucky opens the door making his way over to the bed to flip the quilt over so she doesn’t have to see the stains, again.

“She always wore this jumper, I put it on once and tripped over when I tried to walk” she giggles.

“Take it, what about this?” Bucky hold up a long skirt that had patterns on it.

“In the summer she would pull up over her chest so it was like a dress and look it has pockets!”

“Take?”

“Absolutely”

Over the course of twenty minutes Bucky had found a small suitcase and they filled it with all the clothes she wanted to take.

“Bun is this box your mamas?”

“Yeah it’s where her jewels lived.” Laughing when Bucky cocks his eyebrow up “I couldn’t say jewellery so mama said jewels and told me that the box was their home”

“Fair enough, would you like to take it?”

“Okay”

By the time they had finished it was close to being pitch black in the cabin. “Come on Duck its getting too dark to see anything now”

“Okay” as they moved their way through the cabin laughing at each other when the other had bumped into something, getting to the door Bucky stopped “wait a second Bun”

“Duck-“

“Gimme a second Bun”

He goes back inside and she giggles when she hears him say “ow” a few minutes he comes back out smiling whilst holding up the metal tin that housed her toy animals.

“Couldn’t forget this now could we?”

“Y/n? Where the hell have you been?”

“My old house…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah Ducky helped me get things that was my mamas”

“Ducky?” Both sets of parents say in unison.

“Yeah, we’re friends again”

Their dads, Bucky and Y/n all flinch when Maria and Winnie start screaming in joy, hugging each other whilst they jump around in a circle.

“Don’t even think about it George” Howard warns his longest friend as George slinks over to him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Howie”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bucky takes Y/n’s hand in his and slowly backs up whilst their dads argue.

“That was embarrassing” he laughs.

“It’s cute. Maybe we’ll be like that with our kids one day”

“W-what?” Bucky splutters, cheeks going bright red.

“N-no I mean me and my husband and you with your wife…you know?”

Before Bucky could reply they heard Sam’s voice from the doorway.

“Y/n…”

“Hi Sammy, hi Stevie”

Bucky watches as his three best friends reunite with each other, he has to admit that her comment about kids made his stomach flutter then drop when she mentions about her imaginary husband and his imaginary wife.

For the first time in three years Bucky felt whole once again.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: first date, first kiss, very slight angst | written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain)

Today has to be perfect, Eddie vows as he parks his van in the Harrington's driveway.

Because today Eddie is taking Steve out on their first date.

Frankly, he has no idea how he managed to get a date with the Steve Harrington. Even more, he has no idea how someone as beautiful and kind and sweet and funny as Steve would want to go out with someone like him.

It certainly helps that they saved the world together and share many, many traumas, as well as some horrible scars that tell the story of everything they've been through.

Eddie wants to believe that's not all that binds them, that the months they've spent growing closer over shared custody of Steve's six nuggets, movie nights, and long hours spent smoking and talking on top of the Munsons' new trailer have a lot to do with it, too.

But Eddie also knows that the Eddie of a year ago would have scoffed at the idea of going out with King Steve. Just like that Steve wouldn't have gone out with the town freak.

Which is why Eddie needs today to be a success.

Today has to be perfect.

As he rings the bell, his heart beats wildly in his chest and sweat forms on his palms.

Steve answers the door with a smile that makes Eddie's knees weak. "Hey," he says, and Eddie's mind blanks for a moment. Steve's wearing those jeans, the ones that look like they're painted on, showing off his legs and...other parts. And he has them paired with a striped polo shirt that is not supposed to look as good as it does.

"Hey," Eddie replies, finally finding his voice. "You ready for a day full of adventure?"

Steve grins and nods, stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lead the way. As long as there are no monsters to fight, I'm game."

Eddie's plan is simple: a picnic in an empty field he found a few weeks ago, but first some good old-fashioned ball throwing to indulge Steve's love of sports. It's no secret that Eddie hates sports, but he's willing to make an exception for Steve. He often feels that Steve is the one indulging the kids, Robin, or even himself, because except for Lucas, none of their friends enjoy sports, either playing or watching.

So Eddie wants to show Steve that his hobbies and interests are important too, and that Eddie can try to be as involved in them as Steve is in his.

They drive to the field with music blasting, a mix tape that Eddie has made especially for this occasion, a perfect blend of his and Steve's taste in music, and he feels a little more at ease as Steve sings along, off-key and carefree. When "Somebody To Love" comes on, Steve playfully nudges him with his elbow and Eddie joins him as they both sing along, grinning broadly.

"Did you bring me here to murder me and get rid of the body, Munson?" Steve jokes at the sight of the empty field and Eddie lets out a theatrical cackle.

"Afraid I'm going to have my way with you, Harrington?"

Heat pools in his stomach at the smile Steve gives him in response.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Deciding on a hasty retreat before he does something embarrassing like whimper, Eddie climbs out of the van and goes to the back, pulling out an old baseball and a pair of gloves.

"Thought we could start with this," Eddie says, holding up the ball to Steve, who has followed him to the back of the van.

Steve's eyes light up at the sight. "You remembered."

As if Eddie could ever forget all the secrets and stories Steve had shared with him, while the stars above them were the only witnesses to some of the best moments of Eddie's life.

Steve had told him how he had always loved baseball as a little boy, and how his father had sometimes taken him to games. Looking back, Steve said he probably loved his father's attention and time more than the sport itself, but for whatever reason, it had been his first great love. He collected all the cards and knew everything there was to know about stats and players and rules. All he wanted was to be a player.

When he tried out at school, he didn't make the team. It was only years later that Steve found out why he had trouble hitting the ball with his bat: he had impaired vision, something his parents never bothered with, so he was never examined. At the time, he believed it was because he wasn't good enough, a failure. His dad seemed to think the same thing, because after he didn't make the team, he never took Steve to games again.

Steve hadn't played since, so Eddie figured it was time to help Steve have some good memories of baseball again.

Eddie shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, figured you'd like it."

They toss the ball back and forth, Steve coaching Eddie on his form, laughing when Eddie fumbles a catch. They're both having fun, and Eddie starts to relax, thinking maybe this date won't be a disaster after all.

But then Eddie misjudges a throw, and the ball smacks him right on the forehead. He stumbles back, more surprised than hurt, but his confidence takes a hit.

"Shit, Eddie, you okay?" Steve rushes over, concern etched on his face.

Eddie laughs it off, though his heart sinks. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just my luck, huh?"

Steve looks relieved but still worried. "Maybe we should take a break."

Eddie nods, feeling like he's already ruined things. He wonders why he thought it was a good idea to throw a ball with an ex-jock when he failed gym class more than once. So much for giving Steve a good baseball memory.

Still, he trudges over to the van to get everything they need for the picnic he has planned. The delighted smile on Steve's face at the sight of the basket and the blanket under Eddie's arm makes him think that maybe all is not lost. But just as he spreads out the blanket and unloads the food he's prepared, he glances up at the sky and sees dark clouds gathering. Still, he clings to the hope that they can finish before the rain comes.

Eddie should have known better. Luck and he have only been acquaintances at the best of times.

Just as they're settling in, the first raindrop falls, then another, and within seconds, it's pouring.

Eddie's heart sinks. This day was supposed to be perfect, and now it's a mess. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This was supposed to be perfect and now —"

Steve cuts him off with a bright laugh, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain running down his face. "Eddie, it's fine. Really."

Eddie looks at him, confused. "But the rain, and the ball, and—"

Steve steps closer, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. You did so much for me today, Eddie." And before Eddie can respond, Steve kisses him.

It's a soft, lingering kiss that makes Eddie forget about the rain, the ball, and everything else. When they pull apart, Steve's smiling. "This is perfect, Eddie."

Eddie laughs, feeling lighter than he has all day. "Yeah, it kinda is."

As they pack up the picnic in the pouring rain, Eddie realizes that maybe perfection isn't about everything going right. Maybe it's about finding the right moments, even in the midst of chaos, with the right person.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (05)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; omg, i'm alive????? jkjk, work's been piling up lately and i'm honestly drained by the time I get back home so I couldn't do much writing or even qc the draft before yoinking them into a tumblr draft 💀 but anyways, hope yall enjoy this chapter !! uri boo makes a small little cameo in this chapter :D a part of the angst in this fic has also arrived, pls be prepared (it’s not that heavy tho).

You were 15 when you experienced your first ‘heartbreak’. Though, you call it a ‘heartbreak’ solely because it was a “for the lack of a better word” situation. A week before summer break, your parents had announced that the three of you would be flying off to Jeju to visit your grandparents.

You adore your grandparents, and they adore you just as much. Before you started middle school, you remember constantly flying off to Jeju, or even taking the ferry, to visit them every holiday and school break possible. Even during the initial stage of your move to the small town, your parents had sent you off to your grandparents as they sorted out the heavier parts.

Your grandparents had brought you to the beach, taught you how to make kimchi and even brought you to one of the fireworks shows during your stay. But, when you started middle school and were bombarded by a shit ton of schoolwork, you weren’t able to visit them as often.

So, you were ecstatic when your parents announced the Jeju trip. Both Aki and Seungcheol could see the excitement and happiness in your eyes as you told them about your plans.

Aki asking you questions about Jeju while Seungcheol listens to both of you with a small smile on his face. “how long will you be there, pup?” he asks, cheek leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Uhm… I think maybe for two weeks? I’m not really sure… Dad did ask mom if she wanted me to tag along with them to London afterwards…”

“Oh? What are they gonna be doing in London?”

“They have a business meeting that lasts at least two days. But, they decided to stay back a week for a mini vacation.”

“Do you want to go?” Aki asks as she pops a piece of strawberry into her mouth, stealing a glance at Seungcheol, noticing the way his shoulders are slumped at the mention of you thinking of joining your parents overseas.

Dude looks like a puppy not wanting its owner to leave it alone… she thought to herself, finding the scene in front of her amusing.

“Well, whether or not you want to join your parents, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless!” she spoke.

“Take good care of yourself, pup,” Seungcheol added as he reached out a hand and patted your head, sending a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and a teasing smile on Aki’s lips, “If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Or me!”

The older male rolled his eyes at Aki’s words, smiling when you nod your head.

“Seungkwannie!” you squealed out in happiness as you ran up to your cousin who was standing out at the gates of your grandparent's house, engulfing him in a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! Mom and Dad said that you’d be in Biyangdo!”

“And miss out on the chance to spend time with my favourite cousin? Never!” Seungkwan proclaimed as he pecked your cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years, ___! There’s no way I’d pass off the opportunity to spend time with you while you’re here!”

Seungkwan is your cousin from your mom’s side of the family. Before the age of 5, you don’t remember much about meeting Seungkwan other than the stories both your parents would tell you over family dinners. For example, when you asked them about the scar Seungkwan had on his chest, his dad said you were the one that left it on him. They proceeded to tell the story of how you had scratched Seungkwan because he had refused to let you watch Pocoyo on tv when both of you were just 3.

Or when his mom would ask you if you remembered Seungkwan hiding in the closet to scare you, but you ended up crying because you had thought he went home. So, instead of scaring you, he came out of the closet and both your parents found the two of you cuddled up on the floor the next morning

After Seungkwan helped you and your parents move the luggage into your grandparent’s home, Both of you sat on the porch, drinking the lemonade your grandmother had prepared. “How’re you, aunt and uncle doing?” he asks, “I heard from Uncle Lee that you’re starting high school soon! probably in a few months, right?”

“Things have been the same, besides the whole mom and dad having to go overseas occasionally and I had to stay with either Aki or Seungcheol.”

“Speaking of Seungcheol, how’s that little crush of yours on him going?” Seungkwan asked with a teasing smile, nudging your sides, “Ever thought of telling him before he graduates? There’s a chance he might head off to the big cities or even abroad for college.”

You were silent for a moment.

You have thought about telling Seungcheol your feelings, but you never thought about the timing. Now that his graduation is nearing, you still haven’t told him. As you were still stuck in your thoughts, Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, “Well, whatever happens, I wish you happiness.“

“You say that as if I’m leaving you forever.”

“Hey, let me be sentimental!”

Just as you rolled your eyes, you felt your phone vibrate - you had gotten a text from Aki.

aki: did you make it to Jeju safe? ___ bestie <3: yeap! ___ bestie <3: i’m with my cousin rn ___ bestie <3: [sent an attachment] aki: ooh, he’s cute ___ bestie <3: want me to introduce you? aki: gurl aki: don’t try to matchmake me when you’re struggling to tell Seungcheol about how you feel aki: and besides aki: your cousin is cute, but he’s not my type ___ bestie <3: wow ___ bestie <3: you really just did me dirty aki: i’m just saying ___ aki: better tell him before you lose the chance aki: besides your romantic struggles aki: have fun and take lots of pictures! aki: can’t wait to see them when you get back <3 ___ bestie <3: i will!

“Are you gonna stay here with grandma and grandpa while Aunt and Uncle Lee fly out to London?” Seungkwan asks as you set down your phone, refilling his glass of lemonade. You shrugged, still debating on whether or not you wanted to join your parents. “I’m honestly stuck in between… On one hand, I want to see what other countries are like. On the other, I haven’t seen grandma and grandpa in years…”

Your mother who was on her way to give you both a plate of strawberries overheard the conversation and tried her best to help you with your indecisiveness. “___, sweetie,” she began as she set the plate on the wooden porch floor, “you can always travel in the future when you’re all grown up.”

“That sounds like you just want her to stay here in Jeju so you and uncle can enjoy yourselves without her presence,” Seungkwan teased, earning a forehead flick from your mother.

“Well, she’ll be in your care too, Seungkwan. I hope I won’t return to a sassy, diva daughter after leaving her here with you.”

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest at your mother’s statement. “Aunt Lee, I’m hurt and offended.”

“You’re just further proving my point, Seungkwan.”

“Hey, the sass could end up helping her in the future!”

cheollie: hey, pup cheollie: mom said you and your parents made it to Jeju safely cheollie: how are you feeling? cheollie: did you get motion sickness during the flight? cheollie: did you eat dinner yet? sweet pup: ehh, the motion sickness wasn’t that bad sweet pup: grandma made lemonade :D sweet pup: and yes, i ate dinner! sweet pup: grandpa grilled some mackerel sweet pup: [sent an attachment] sweet pup: and look at how fat the strawberries are :0 sweet pup: [sent an attachment] cheollie: wow cheollie: those look good cheollie: hey, do you think it’s alright if we have a call? sweet pup: like, right now? cheollie: yea sweet pup: oh sweet pup: um, let me head out to the porch cheollie: take your time, pup

As you quietly exited the room you were staying in and out onto the porch, you picked up Seungcheol’s incoming call, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify when you heard his deep, “Hey, pup.”

“Hi, Cheollie! Have you had your dinner?” you asked, getting a small hum as a response. “Dad got a deal with a big client so he bought steak for us. Mom also cooked calamari.”

“Wow, it must’ve tasted amazing…”

“Yeah, it was. But, tell me about your dinner, ___. I’m sure you had more than just grilled mackerel.” Seungcheol chuckled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mentally cussed at how the older male still has an effect on you despite being 2 hours away and talking to you through a phone.

“Well… Mom made raw crabs and seafood soup!”

“Looks like my little puppy is eating well... That’s good.”

“Is there another reason you wanted to call, Cheollie?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you slightly anxious. You hear a faint rustling, thinking he must be lying on his bed as he’s talking to you. A sigh was heard before Seungcheol told you his motive for calling you - and to say it had you on the floor was an understatement.

No, this man had you envisioning a future with him.

“I miss you.”

When you didn't respond, Seungcheol got worried, calling out your name on the other end while you remained stunned at his confession.

“U-uhm, yeah?”

“Did that make you uncomfortable, pup?”

“No, no, it just… It just caught me by surprise…”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle, and more rustling can be heard before he speaks again. “Well, I’m used to having you around me, twenty-four seven, ___. It feels weird when you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, Cheollie. You’re being dramatic!”

Maybe he was, the older male thought to himself. But, he pushes that thought to the back of his head as he finally tells you the real reason he’s calling you.

“My parents are thinking of bringing me to Seoul this weekend to check out a few unis… I just thought that I’d let you know since, y’know… I’m graduating soon…”

Your heart sank at the mention of him graduating. You knew it was bound to happen - you even told yourself to not be too sad when he does end up moving out of Daegu for college. But, to hear it coming from Seungcheol himself, the reality hit harder.

“Oh… Well, I’m happy for you!” you tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice, though he still picked it up. “Pup, I’m not going away forever. You’ll still see me when I come back during breaks and when you leave for college, you can come over to Seoul, too!” he assures you, chuckling to himself as he continues, “Maybe our parents might even have us share an apartment so I can watch over you.”

Humming, you stared up into the sky, mesmerised by the stars that were scattered along the blanket of the night sky.

“___?”

“Yea…?”

“Remember what I taught you during our taekwondo sessions?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t forget how to use them, okay? Can’t have my little puppy all defenceless now, can I?”

you bit your lip as Seungcheol went on with his words, how he wished he could stay in Daegu longer so he could spend more time with you. How he wanted to explore the bigger city in Daegu with you (where he implies it being just two of you and without Aki who would often nag at him for having a bad taste in things).

“I’m gonna miss you…” you muttered quietly, not knowing how or what else you were supposed to say. You weren’t going to tell him about your feelings, that’s for sure. but, a part of you wished you could.

Who knows? Maybe you both could end up being something.

��It’s getting late, pup. you must be tired from the flight and settling in. Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Cheollie…”

When the call ended, you stared at the screen of your phone, a million thoughts racing through your head. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. perhaps you were overthinking the whole situation or something wrong was bound to happen. Whatever it was, you quietly got back into your room and crawled into bed.

Something didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend Seungcheol was due to head to Seoul to have a look at the city and attend a few of the education fairs - and not once, had you gotten a single message from him.

In fact, in the days leading up to that weekend, he had been quiet too. His replies were either short, took too long or there weren’t any replies at all.

It makes you feel uneasy.

“Still no updates from loverboy?” Seungkwan asks, glancing over your shoulder and peeking at your phone, seeing the wall of texts about how the past few days have gone down for you. When you sulkingly shake your head, Seungkwan’s heart aches as he sees his favourite cousin down in the dumps.

“Hey,” he calls out in a gentle tone, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “Maybe he’s just caught up with those college things. Sooner or later he’s bound to update you, right? Besides, you should be busy having fun here in Jeju!”

Looking at your phone one last time, you shoved it back into your pocket and let Seungkwan drag you to a food street, saying how they added more delicious treats since the last time you visited.

By evening, there was still no news about or from Seungcheol. You’ve tried calling him multiple times, but they all end up going to voicemail. It was starting to affect you and your parents began to take notice, but decided to not question it for fear of triggering an episode. After dinner, you decided to call Aki in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“I just don’t understand, Aki,” you told her, “I texted him, even called him but I got nothing! What if something bad happened to him?”

“Hey now, you’re probably overthinking things. He might just be sorting those uni documents out - you know how lengthy and taxing they can be. Maybe, he’s just tired and needs some rest!”

“You think so?”

“It’s just a guess, ___. whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Oh, how you wished it really wasn’t anything serious.

When the time came to send your parents off at the airport for their trip to London, you had sent a message to Seungcheol and yet again, you got no response. One thing you came to realise in recent years, was how big of an over-thinker you are. It was something you hated and while your family, Seungcheol and Aki have done whatever they can to help you lessen your overthinking, that still doesn’t stop it from creeping up on you from time to time.

Seungkwan does his best to cheer you up. Bringing you to more food streets, a maze field, and even the seaside to take your mind off of Seungcheol but alas, it was as if Seungcheol had taken over your mind just like the virus in ‘The Last of Us’. One evening as you sat on the sand of the beach, staring off into the horizon, Seungkwan came up and sat next to you.

“I know this might not sound nice, but you can’t let something like Seungcheol not responding to you ruin your trip, ___. Sure, it’s upsetting having someone you’ve known for years and care for go ghost on you, but it’s kind of… pathetic, to let it ruin what could be a fun summer vacation.”

As much as those words hurt you, Seungkwan was right.

You hadn’t seen your family that lived in Jeju for years and now that you can, you’re letting something like your crush not responding to you ruin it. “Then, what should I do, Kwannie…?” you asked, wiping the tears that were starting to stream down your face, “I don’t wanna leave Jeju knowing I didn’t get to spend time with you and our grandparents…”

“How about you try calling him only once? If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll forget about it and move on, okay?”

You give it a thought, minutes passing by before you pick up your phone and dial Seungcheol’s number, placing it near your ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

Seungkwan noticed your body shaking as you redialled the number, your breathing starting to grow shallow.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

“___?” Seungkwan calls out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. When you began to cry, he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you cried your heart out. “Shhh, it’s okay, ____. it’s okay.”

When you got back to Daegu, your heart dropped at the sight of the empty house next to yours. the entire house looked as if it were fully emptied (which it was) - the potted plants Mrs. Choi had displayed on the gates were nowhere to be seen, the shoes that were neatly arranged on the shoe rack weren’t there anymore, and the Choi’s family car wasn’t parked in its usual place.

“I guess they must’ve moved since Seungcheol is going to start college soon…” your mother tells your father who hums in response as he unloads the luggage from the trunk of the taxi. When she notices the sadness and tears in your eyes, she immediately starts comforting you.”Oh, sweetie… Does it upset you that much?”

“I… I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you sobbed out, “I couldn’t even see him one last time before he left…”

“Oh, princess…” your father coos after bidding the taxi driver goodbye, hugging you tight as your mother does the same, “I’m sure he feels sad for not being able to do the same, hmm?”

“Will… Will I… Will I be able to see him again?” you asked through hiccuped sobs, wiping your tears away as more kept spilling. Your mother nods, giving you a pat on the head. “I'm sure you will, honey.”

“He said he’s thinking of joining University of Pledis, right?” your father asked, a small smile on his face when you nod, “Then, you just need to study hard and get in there too! That way, you can finally be reunited with prince charming!”

despite your tears, you still manage to laugh at your dad’s tease. “Dad!”

“Ah-ah, don’t think we didn’t know about your little crush on Seungcheol, ___.” he responded, chuckling as he gave your arm an assuring squeeze.

“Whatever the future has in store, I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[rachelsfav-queer]

Small little potential Wednesday season 2 plot point that I’ve seen some discussion for but honestly not nearly enough is Enid’s scars. Cause like, in the last episode, after everything goes down, Enid’s scars are prominent and clearly visible.

So I’m personally really hoping that they remain prominent, not just physically but also story-wise. I hope that they don’t just disappear with some lame excuse of “werewolf healing!” or whatever bullshit like that. I actually hope they become a centralized point of Enid’s arc in season 2, where she has to come to accept and love her own scars, no matter what others think of them.

I think that the beginning of season 2 should introduce the plot of Enid hiding her scars, maybe by growing her hair out more or maybe putting on way too much makeup or something like this. And then we need Wednesday to notice FUCKING IMMEDIATELY!!

And I don’t mean like, same day or anything like that. No, I mean IMMEDIATELY, okay? Like she enters Nevermore and Enid comes out to greet her with a hug, but Wednesday pulls back, not because of the hug, but because “Where are your scars?”

“Wh- what?”

“Your scars, from your battle with Tyler. You should be displaying them proudly, they are a symbol of your victory over that worthless scum. Where are your scars?”

And then we have Wednesday, throughout the season, trying to encourage Enid to show her scars. And perhaps, we even have a scene where Wednesday and Enid are in private and Enid isn’t hiding her scars. So Wednesday gets a complete view of them, and she decides to caress them carefully, trailing her fingers lightly across Enid’s cheek and forehead.

And Enid’s knees get weak, her eyes flutter closed as a deep rumble arises from her chest. “Wednesday…”

“Your scars, they are-” Wednesday hesitates, “They symbolize who you are, Sinclair. A survivor, a warrior. Don’t ever let the poison of others’ societal insecurities take this away from you.”

Enid opens her eyes and realizes she doesn’t see Wednesday, her roommate. She sees Wednesday, the girl she has longed to know and to protect. Enid sees Wednesday Addams, the girl who has put her life on the line for her time and again. Wednesday, who has become someone that Enid cannot imagine life without anymore. “You are too, you know? You’re so brave, Wednesday. And… you make me want to be brave too. So… don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not. Okay?”

“I will not… mi lobo,” Wednesday speaks with a softness that Enid now notices she’s only ever spared for her. Maybe… no, of course not. They’re just friends… really, really good friends.

So ummmm, oops. This got away from me a little bit… Anyway! You get my point! Wenclair should become canon through addressing Enid’s scars.

[meanbossart]

Hi RJ! I hope you are having a great time with your partner! Sorry if this has been asked before, but I was curious what DU Drow’s thoughts are to Astarion marking him like he did to himself. I know you’ve mentioned that Drow did a lot of the scarification as a teen to cope with things, and in your Bhaalist AU Drow has Astarion do some of the face marks. But I saw the art with Astarion’s bite marks on Drow’s ass and I doubt Drow was unhappy about that lol. Does he like having permanent marks from his partner? Do they ever bring any sort of blood/knifeplay into their relationship? I’d be super interested to hear Drow’s thoughts about it! And alternatively what you think Astarion would feel about it.

Your art is absolutely gorgeous and you are easily one of my favorite artists of all time. Your mastery of body shape, facial expressions, telling a story through character design, everything makes me swoon at your art. I’m so invested in your freaky man, RJ, I love him and as someone with a master’s degree in clinical psychology I want to dissect his brain and study him under a microscope

Thank you so much for your kind words!!! Happy to have a specialist in the field here watching this trainwreck LOL

And that's a very interesting question! Besides for his forearm scars (which were a weird show of dominance in his bhaalspawn days) DU drow's facial and chest scarification were actually done by Orin, and as you can guess he is very into the idea of being permanently marked by his partner - definitely the kind of guy to get your name tattooed on him six months into the relationship.

He does have an inkling of good sense and propriety, though. It's kind of a pillar of the character that he knows how to operate in society in favor of coming across as pleasant and only an acceptable level of eccentric, which is to say that he has the vaguest idea that requesting that Astarion mutilate him for his own pleasure might not bode well. This, as it is the case for everything else, is my own take on the character, but Astarion does not strike my as someone who would want to permanently harm their partner once he's made a genuine emotional bond with them. DU drow realizes this, plus there's the whole treating-him-with-kid's-gloves complex which leads him to believe this would be a sensitive topic, given Astarion's own background.

But DU drow often fantasizes about the scenario, specially during sex or moments where he is emotionally overwhelmed with his love for him. It takes him some time to make the connection between his own scars and what they mean about past relationships, but perhaps at some point an opportunity would arise where he makes such request - and he would do it because it's important, and because he has to for once in his life trust Astarion to either A) participate enthusiastically or B) Allow him to choose to take on the discomfort of his own free-will, and see it as a sign of love and compromise rather than the helplessness he imposes upon him.

And I think that depending on how it was presented, Astarion would do it. He wouldn't do it on a whim, or just to get DU drow's rocks off, but he would do it if he saw that it was something that he really needed, and for good reason. He wouldn't like the process, but he would appreciate having that trust put on him and to have the chance to care for his partner, to have him ask him for help, as weird as the request might be.

[monst]

In love with the Batgirls

When you say I love you and how they respond:

Batgirls x Gn. Reader

Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown (In this order)

Cassandra Cain:

      You were looking at the mosaic of dried old gum on the sidewalk when a chilly breeze stole your attention. Your eyes squeeze tight as you shiver your hand tightening against warm fingers. Cassandra squeezed back calloused hands warm against your palms. She pulled you forward with her towards a line. The breeze tousles her short dark hair, her scarred fingers moving them from her eyes as she tells you about the jumbo pretzel she wants to share with you on your walk to the botanical gardens. 

   “You need to try it with the cheese.” Now it wasn’t the most grand confession ever but you don’t think she’d have liked it if it was. So on that line on a random Thursday afternoon, you smiled and said. 

    “I love you.” 

    And if you could fall in love all over again it would be because of the grin she sent your way. Cheeks flushed a light pink when she parted her lips to say.

“I Know.” 

Barbara Gordon:

  You held your breath when you heard the doors burst open. You had just narrowly made it into the vents, your chest still heaving as you listened to the group clear the room below you. You took your chance to inch further away while they turned over furniture. You felt your blood chill when you heard them mention checking the ventilation system. Your pace hastening through the never-ending maze. You could make out the metal thudding behind you, it wasn’t close. Yet. Minutes tick by with your radio still blurting out static, and you’ve had to double out of another dead-end. And with each crawl, it felt as if the noise of your pursuers grew closer. You didn’t know if she could hear you, the signal had been jammed since you entered the building but you just had to let her know. In case…

     “Hey uh, not sure if you can even hear me but.. I wanted to let you know… before I die that I. I uh... I love you.” You were met with silence before your comms device crackled, Oracle’s voice ringing through. 

    “You're not going to die on my watch take the next left and come home to me.”  

Stephanie Brown:

       Steph has cheese sauce on her lower lip from her cheese steak sub. Her cheek is repping her favorite color, a bruise from a lucky goon last night. Her undereyes are dark with lack of sleep, her curls a bit wild from her shift. But her rosy lips don't stop smiling as she tells you about the service dog she saw at the ER today. Something something the cutest thing! She’s talking a mile a minute about how her mom adopted one that looks just like it. ‘They could be from the same litter!’ She’s got a smile playing on your lips when she pulls out her phone to show you a picture. The dog was cute but your mind wasn’t on her story, it was on the pink bandaid wrapped around her pinky, her purple polka-dot scrubs, and the curve of her eyes smiling as she told you about her day. She's taking another bite of her sub when you take a chance blurting out: 

  “I think I love you” You see her whole body pause, and you watch with bated breath as she sets her food down on the park bench. Your body relaxes when you see her flushed pout, and you shrug sheepishly when she replies with a groan.  

    “Seriously dude?! While I look a mess?!”  

[itskattkm]

The air in my lungs

Chapter 3

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A stroke of fate changes you and leads you into the arms of Cairo Sweet. Will she be your downfall or save you?

Warnings: 18+, Grief, Injuries, Scars, Car accident, Smoking, Trauma, anxiety, sexual content, student x teacher mentioned, harm, blackmailing, bad grammar

A/N: Based and inspired by Millers Girl. Mr. Miller himself isn’t really present but will be mentioned. Hope you guys enjoy.

Masterlist | previous chapter | Next chapter

Cairo didn’t saw you for the rest of the day. When she was home in her big mansion near the woods. Surrounded by big trees and nature it self she was getting crazy with herself. Her thoughts kept running back to you. Everytime Cairo tried to write, she ended up writing about you. The way you looked, the way you made her feel, the way she wanted to be touched by you, the way she wanted to touch you and fix you. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest when she imagined what It would feel like to be touched by you. The way you moved her cigarette so smoothly between you fingers. Fingers she wanted to feel on her skin, feel on places she never really cared about before. She began to hear her own heartbeat. Getting lost in the idea of you touching her in those almost unholy places. Feeling you taking off her laced slip slowly just to tease her. Your lips touching her neck making her gasp for air she almost forgot how to breathe.

Suddenly there was a ring. “Winnie” sighed Cairo when she was brought back by her friend from her daydream. Cairo made immediately her way down to the entry. It was already pretty late when Winnie decided to come over, you expected her after school but Winnie seemed to have different plans. Anyways she was here now and both of them were lying on Cairos big bed, smoking together while checking your social media accounts.

They wanted to see if they could find the reason why you changed over the summer and why you were acting so strange towards Cairo today. Winnie was really good at stalking, so she was basically guiding Cairo towards what she should be looking for. Cairo couldn’t wait to find out what y/n was hiding and why, as long as she was okay of course. They both knew that y/n was someone who kept things pretty private. She liked keeping things for herself and used to like staying in the shadows. That’s what made her so interesting to Cairo. It was like y/n had diffrent personalities.

“So… as the pro I am. I found out why y/n turned hot… bold… and acted so weird today and why she got that scars on her back” said Winnie with a devilish smile.

“Why? Please tell me, Winnie.” Cairo said, trying to stay optimistic. She was already so curious about the scars you had, and wanted to know why you acted so different that day. She really hoped you didn’t get hurt or anything but let’s be honest… when someone had scars it meant that they had been hurted so... Cairo just wanted you to be okay, first and foremost. But she also wanted to know the reason for your sudden change today.

“As I assumed something happened at the end of spring…She was in a pretty bad car accident with her family. Her mom died and y/n barely survived. Her dad’s still alive but… well… I mean they still are grieving”

Winnie showed Cairo then pictures of the accident. It was pictures of a car in the middle of a river. When they managed to get the car out Cairo could she how destroyed the front was. It was a wonder that her dad managed to survive thought Cairo.

Winnie kept telling the story “Seemed like it was also in the news. Some drunk asshole was driving on the other side of the road. Her father tried to avoid the car but they crashed through the bridge and fell down into the river.” Cairo was stunned to hear that. She couldn’t believe what Winnie had just said. Your story suddenly seemed a bit harder to talk about then she could have imagined. Cairo was hurt about what she had heard, but still wanted to know more. “And what about the scars?” Cairo asked, her tone suddenly sounding more serious, but she didn’t know if that was because she was shocked or because she was hurting on your behalf.

“Oh wait… I wasn’t right. While her dad tried to avoid the other car… the car immediately crashed into the side she and her mom had been sitting in. The car turned and then they crashed through the bridge and fell into the river… trapped in the car under the water” said Winnie while checking some old news reports online.

Then it hit Cairo like a truck and she said quite “I guess that’s why she panicked in swim class. It was because of the incident Winnie”.

“Fuck…” Cairo muttered in shock. She had no idea you had gone through something so horrible. Her heart dropped again. She couldn’t believe what she heard. And it made more sense now that you were so cold towards her today. You just wanted to forget what happened during swimming class. Now your scars made more sense to Cairo. You had been through a tragic event… you needed some time. Cairo felt a little bad, as she couldn’t help to want to approach you about her feelings for you. But she knew she couldn’t just ignore something like this. This wasn’t just a flirt… you were human. You were hurt pretty bad. This was pretty bad.

“Not many people know about it. But her close friends said she changed much after the accident. I mean if I had almost died? I would also care less about people thoughts and be bolder… enjoy life…” said Winnie and sighed. “I guess that’s what she’s doing. She’s trying to live the life she didn’t had for so many years. And I guess the trauma of the accident also made her care less about some things…” Cairo said, a bit sad that you might have changed because of the accident. “But I think I’m also glad she’s alive. And I’m happy that the way she acted today hasn’t been my fault. The accident kinda explains it all… It makes me feel a bit better as well.”

Winnie grinned wide “So don’t worry about her being so mean to you. It was a bad timing… I’m sure tomorrow you both will go back to the hot flirting and soon you’ll have her tongue between your legs.”

Cairo gasped and punched Winnie with a pillow but she had to admit that this made her sweat for a sec. Winnie laughed and Cairo smiled at her a bit. It had all made sense now, and she was also glad that Winnie was reassuring her that it wasn’t her fault. You had just been through a lot. Nothing was about Cairo, and you just needed space today. “Thanks Winnie. I feel a lot better now. I should still try not to do anything that might make things more difficult, but it’s a huge relief that y/n is just handling the accident badly.”

“What did the scars look like? Did they make her even hotter? Like a bad ass villain?” asked Winnie curious and laid down on her stomach while watching Cairo. “You think scars make her EVEN hotter?” Cairo asked, smiling at Winnie. Winnie was so funny and playful. And she didn’t mind her questions at all, that’s just how she was. “I honestly think the scars make her look badass, that’s for sure.” Cairo replied, thinking about how tough you must be to have scars from an accident like that. And to be so young at the same time. “But the hotness has gotta be her confidence, her eyes, her lips. Just everything really.”

Winnie grinned wider and nudged Cairo slightly “oh you got that shine in your eyes… I can see the things on your mind… it’s making me pretty hot I can tell” she sighed and moved closer to Cairo and looked at her with serious eyes “Damn girl you need to get that girl in bed and tell me everything afterwards… Just imagine scratching her back with those scars” she said and almost whined while saying this, wich made Cairo blush pretty hard. “Don’t tempt me…” Cairo said, jokingly. She couldn’t hide her attraction to you. And she wasn’t sure y/n didn’t feel anything for her either. At times it felt like she did. But other times she was distant. “When it comes to this girl, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist any longer.” Cairo sighed, thinking about you. You looked so good today, and the scars just added to that the more she thought about it. She felt a hard pulsing between her legs and sighed quietly, thinking about how she would kiss every scar on your body while adding a few more with her nails while you would give her the best pleasure she could ever imagine.

“Good” said Winnie proud… “my bestie is learning from me”

“You know…” Cairo said, looking towards Winnie.” Y/n is such an attractive girl, and I think I will talk to her later.” She paused. “When I do, I think I’ll make a move on her.” Winnie looked both shocked and excited, her eyes opening wide when she heard Cairo’s confession.

“Later? Like? In the middle of the night? Today? No… after that awful day for her better not. Depends… how did you planned to approach her?” She asked and looked at Cairo with a tilted head.

“Well, maybe tomorrow then. But yes, I’ll make a move on her.” Cairo said, staring right back at Winnie as she spoke. She had thought about what she was going to say to you. And she knew exactly how she was going to act. “As for how?” She paused for a moment. “I guess I’ll just be myself. Y/n seems to like that.” She smiled a bit over at Winnie. Winnie giggled and whispered into Cairos ear “Keep doing that smoking thing… I think that’s your and y/n thing now… and maybe you can use that. To get close… and turn the tables and surprise her. Don’t let her win that easy” said Winnie while looking devilish at Cairo.

“Yeah, it probably is our thing now. Maybe I should use it to get close to y/n.” Cairo said excitedly. She was really starting to make a plan now. She wanted to get to you and make a move on you. She was so attracted to you, and really wanted to be with you. “But you mean surprise her in what way?” She asked, slightly confused. “You mean surprising her by making a move on her without her expecting it?” She asked, almost smiling. “By kissing her out of nowhere like she did with you?! God when you told me that story I was getting so turned on. You were so mean to her and what did she do?

Steal your cigarette took a puff, destroyed it, grabbed your chin and kissed you hard to release the smoke in your mouth and saying

Stop Smoking around me? Ugh… hot!” sighed Winnie and looked dreamy at the ceiling “I would have probably took of my slip immediately and said ‘take me’” said Winnie half joking cause Cairo knew Winnie would do such things.

“Yeah I could do that.” Cairo nodded. She thought about exactly how y/n had surprised her before. And it was so unexpected, but so so hot. “But I also want to make a move like that in a more romantic way. One that she can’t resist, like she did with me.” She paused. “I still want to surprise her, but at the same time make her feel like she can’t say no.”

“That wasn’t romantic my dear friend… that was seducing…” explained Winnie and rolled her eyes at Cairos innocent hint. She may was a pro in writing the baddest smut ever but y/n was making Cairo really go so weak. Cairo smirked. “Is there a difference?” She asked, wondering if she was making a huge mistake. “Because to me, that was romantic. I was so surprised, but I felt so warm when y/n kissed me.” Maybe Winnie was right, but Cairo wanted to believe that you just liked her, or just liked to act that way to mess with her. Or maybe you liked Cairo just for her body. She didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. “Depends” said Winnie with a dirty grin “Did you feel hot between your legs or in your chest?”.

“Both. But honestly, my whole body just felt good. It was the whole feeling.” Cairo replied, not knowing what to believe anymore. “I don’t know if I can distinguish between romantic and seducing. They felt the same to me. But maybe I can, since you’re probably right. Y/n was just flirting, and not acting romantic.” That was at least what she wanted to believe, or she would have to be completely honest with herself and realize that she liked you for more than just your looks or your body. And she wasn’t ready for that.

“Just go for it and have your fun Cairo” said Winnie. “I will.” Cairo said, smiling at Winnie. “You know, I feel like y/n is going to turn me down. But it’s like there’s this part of me telling me to go for it anyway. As if something tells me that y/n won’t be able to say no. As if she would accept… Maybe I could use the cigarette thing to seduce her. Or like… I don’t know. I guess I know what to do.” Cairo felt like she had suddenly found out exactly how she wanted to go about this.

“We both know you have the power to seduce and that even through writing. You also ‘accidentally’ seduced our old teacher with your story’s. If I need to remeber you of that. You can have everyone you want Cairo” said Winnie with a luring voice. Cairo smiled at Winnie. “True. Writing is my thing. And I guess seducing is too…” she mumbled. “But is y/n seducible?” She asked, suddenly feeling unsure again. What if y/n wasn’t seducible at all. Maybe that wasn’t what she wanted. “Or is it just that y/n thinks I’m someone who can’t go after her?” Cairo wondered. Y/n was so hard to read it was hard to say what she wanted. But she hoped that she wanted her…

“In my opinion, After knowing her backstory now. She deserves to be seduced and get a good fuck” said Winnie like it was nothing.

Cairo nodded slowly. She looked over at Winnie and smiled. “Then I guess I’ll go for it.” She said, determined to win over y/n. She just hoped her plan would work. And that y/n was seducible. She was scared about the rejection she could get, and scared to find out your feelings. But it was the only way to find out. And she wanted to know what you really thought.

Cairo sighed. She couldn’t believe she was breaking her mind about someone for so long. That wasn’t her at all. You did something to her and Cairo wasn’t sure if she liked it.

[moonstruckme]

Hi darling I hope you’re well! I have this really noticeable scar on my forehead (much like Harry Potter’s) from me being clumsy as a kid and it’s really been bothering me lately and making me self conscious along with other things and I was wondering if you’d just do something where Sirius is being comforting after a rough week of insecurities. No worries if not😊 Thanks love!

Hi sweetheart, I'm good thanks! Thank you for requesting <3

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 845 words

You’re washing your face, and every pass of your fingers over the divot in your forehead feels like a physical pain. Which is silly, because the scar hasn’t hurt for years. 

It’s been a part of your face for so long that usually you hardly remember it. You look past it, the same way your eyes don’t see your nose because it’s always there. Lately, though, you can’t stop yourself from perceiving it constantly. You find yourself trying to cover it with makeup, tilting your head in conversation in attempt to hide it with your hair, staring into the mirror with a freakish intensity. It’s inescapable. 

You force yourself to tear your gaze from the blemish now, turning from the mirror towards where Sirius is waiting for you in bed. 

He sets down his phone at your approach, spreading his arms extravagantly. “Come here, my darling.” 

You go to them with a sharp ache in your chest, curling up against his side. 

There’s a pause and then Sirius hums, confusion teetering on the edge of concern. “What, not even a little laugh?” 

“You’re not very funny,” you tease halfheartedly. 

“You’re not usually a very particular audience.” 

He slides his palm on top of yours where it rests on the mattress. You intertwine your fingers with his. “Sorry,” you sigh. “Long week. I’m glad tomorrow’s Saturday.” 

You want to languish in your pajamas for the entire weekend. Tune into some mindless show and leave this prickling discomfort behind until you have to go back to work on Monday. 

Sirius brings your joined hands to your stomach, sliding them under your top familiarly. You try not to shiver. Sirius’ hands are always cold. You’d asked once if he thought he might be anemic, but he’d only given you a dry look and a jab from one of his insanely sharp elbows. 

He kisses the soft skin below your ear. “You gonna tell me about it, or do you enjoy keeping me in suspense?” 

“I do,” you say, grinning when he nips at your earlobe admonishingly. You do want to tell him, you find. “No, it’s just my scar. It’s been bothering me lately.” 

Sirius' thumb strokes over your navel, already warmer from your skin. “Bothering you how?” 

“Just bothering me.” You’re glad you’re facing away from him. You’re not sure you could take the intensity of his stare as you divulge your insecurities. “I don’t know, for some reason I all of a sudden feel kind of self-conscious about it. It’s not like it’s tiny or inconspicuous or anything.” 

He hums in silent understanding. For few moments the only sound is his thumb sighing over your skin. “Whenever I notice your scar,” he says, “it makes me think of how you told me you got it.” 

You make a quiet scoffing sound. You’d fallen after climbing too high in an old tree by your house when you were little. The branch had broken right out from under you, and you’d fallen all the way into the road, tearing a big gash in your head on the way down. Luckily there’d been no cars coming towards you, but your mom had nearly had a heart attack and it had made for a late night in A&E. 

Sirius’ hand moves up to your shoulder, pushing down so that you’re lying on your back. You try not to squirm under his gaze, knowing your scar has to be stark and shining in the moonlight coming in from your window. He traces the line with a slender finger. 

“It’s a cute story,” he says, and you can find no teasing spark in his watercolor eyes. “It’s fun to imagine little you, trying to get as high up as you could.”

“Before I took a dive onto a roadway,” you add dryly. He mirrors your grin.

“Technicalities. The scar’s adorable, because you were being adorable while you got it.” 

You feel your smile fade. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that, babe,” you say, trying to maintain some lightness in your tone. You’re not sure if you quite manage it. “I’m pretty sure to everyone else it’s just ugly.” 

“Whoa, excuse me.” Sirius frowns, taking your face firmly in hand. “Nothing about you could ever be ugly. That’s scientifically impossible. It defies the laws of nature. What goes up must come down, beer is homophobic, and you,” he kisses you, warm and pillowy soft, “are a fucking stunner. Every bit of you.” 

You kiss him back, smiling. “You’re such a flirt.” 

“Do you want me to prove it?” He quirks a brow. “Give me a minute to look at you, sweet thing, and I’ll get hard right now.” 

You gag, to his delight, and Sirius rolls on top of you, pinning your hips with his. “Fucking,” he plants a kiss on your jaw, “talk about my girlfriend like that,” he lands one on your lips, “one more time.” 

He works his way up your face, smooching your flushed skin until you’re spit-slick and cackling. He does your scar last. 

[explosionshark]

Buffy/Faith + cold, scar, kiss

(For the "send me three words and a character/ship" and I'll write you a scene ask game)

So there's really only one idea for a BodLang sequel that I really care about doing someday and it's this: like two years after the epilogue, Faith goes back to Boston to settle some affairs when she finds out her dad has died and Buffy goes with her. This would be a scene from that hypothetical fic. TW for non-specific references to child abuse (we ARE talking about Faith's family background)

--

“Faith.” Her name escapes Buffy's lips in a cloud of steam, dissolving into the winter air in a second, so fast it might as well have never existed. Buffy clenches her fists tight at her sides and takes a halting step forward, says it again, softer, more carefully. “Faith.”

Faith doesn't turn around. She's got her hands, bare, gloveless, braced on a metal rail. It's cold enough to snow, though it hasn't yet, and Buffy knows it must be cold enough to burn. She wants to reach out, to fold her arms around Faith's body and pull her back, encircle Faith in warmth, take her away from the pain that seems to lurk in every corner of this city. But she doesn't. Not yet. It wouldn't do any good, not before Faith is ready.

“I'm good,” Faith lies, voice rough, head bowed. Her shoulders don't shake, her hands don't leave the rail.

“You're not,” Buffy says, taking another step closer but stopping short of reaching out to touch her. “And you don't have to be, but don't lie about it. Not to me.”

Faith nods, looses a sigh that deflates the rigid set of her shoulders. She seems to shrink, finally, curling in on herself. She cants her head a little, looking sidelong at Buffy for the first time since she swept out of the apartment. “Sorry.”

“It's alright,” Buffy says and she means it. 

“I didn't think it would bother me this bad,” Faith laughs this brittle, hollow laugh, and Buffy can hear the tears in her voice now, even as she shakes her head, sniffing hard to keep them at bay. “I thought, y'know. It'd be good to go back. I'm strong now, y'know? I'm a slayer. And my life is good. I've got friends and I've got you. More than I ever thought I'd get, so. So — y'know, we’re here anyway and it makes sense, come back, get some closure. Thought it would reframe things, being back, really feel how different I am after all these years. How grown.”

Faith pauses and turns around, looking up at the streetlight hanging over them instead of at Buffy directly, the halogen bulb pouring yellow light over her in the dark. “What a fuckin’ joke.” Faith sniffs again, eyes squeezing shut against tears and runs a knuckle over her nose, hard and fast enough to make Buffy wince. “Swear to God, I've never felt any smaller.”

Buffy feels her heart throb in her chest, bruised and aching like a something slammed shut in a doorway. She can't help herself, taking another step closer, reaching a hand out to brush against Faith's cheek. When she doesn't flinch back or pull away, Buffy takes another step forward, brushes back the hair that's fallen into Faith's face, tucks it gently behind her ear.

“The things that fuckin' happened to me in that apartment, B, I swear,” Faith chokes out, sniffing hard again. “I don't even want to tell you.”

Someday, Buffy hopes she will. She dreads it, also, because she knows it will hurt. Faith has let some things slip over the years that paint a nasty picture. And there's more still Faith hasn't had to say, hasn't had a choice in revealing. There's a story in the cluster of too-round burn scars below her ribs, on the back of her right shoulder blade. 

“I'm sorry,” Buffy says, finally, trying to make her voice low and soothing, hating herself a little when it shakes in spite of her efforts. “I'm sorry that no one protected you when you were small and vulnerable. You deserved to have someone to take care of you and show you love and keep you safe.”

She can't help the way her own voice breaks at the end of the sentence, or the way she suddenly misses her own mother so fiercely it takes her breath away. 

Buffy clears her throat a little awkwardly and continues, “And I'm sorry it still hurts, even now. And that coming back here brought it all up for you again But I promise you — no one is ever going to hurt you like that ever again. You know why?”

“I'm a slayer,” Faith mutters, clenching her cold hands between them. “They couldn't.”

Buffy pauses a moment and pulls off her gloves, biting her lip at the sudden rush of cold against her bare skin. She reached out, carefully, cupping Faith's fists, uncurling them, cupping them between her own warm hands before raising them up between them. She leans down, breathes out hot air against the icy skin. Presses a soft kiss Faith's knuckles.

“That's true,” Buffy says quietly. “You're very strong. You're one of the strongest people I know, one of the best fighters. You've faced down demons and monsters and bad men, and you've beaten them all. You use your strength to help people. To protect people who are weaker than you, who need someone to help them. There's no way to make what happened to you here right, Faith, but that doesn't stop you from making the world better, in spite of the ways it failed you. And I'm so proud of you for that and I'm so glad you're here to do it. Because you're good.”

“I'm—” There's a wobble in Faith's voice and a fierceness in her expression that tells Buffy she wants to argue.

Buffy doesn't let her. “And the other reason no one could ever hurt you like that again is because I wouldn't let them. I won't ever let anyone treat you like that. Someone should have protected you when you were little, Faith, and they didn't and that's terrible. But I can. I will. And not just me, okay? Everyone. Willow and Giles and Dawn and Ange, even Xander.l And all those girls you've helped become real slayers.”

“Buffy,” Faith finally crumbles, lurching forward into Buffy's arms, breath spilling out in hot, wet staccato bursts against Buffy's neck.

“You'll never be hurt that way again because you'll never alone again like you were before,” Buffy promises into the shell of Faith's ear. “Never. I promise.”

Buffy feels Faith's hands clenching tight in the fabric of her coat, clinging to her with all the desperation and ferocity of a frightened child and thinks, not for the first time, that it's probably a good thing that Faith’s mom died before Buffy ever got a chance to meet her. She doesn't know what she would be capable of if she ever actually got to meet one of the people who'd wounded Faith so badly, so deeply, but she doesn't think it would be good.

“I'm— can you?” Faith sniffs, pulling back a little to catch Buffy's eye. “Can we go inside now? Not back there, but— I'm cold.”

“Sure,” Buffy says. She leans forward, presses a gentle kiss to the side of Faith's mouth. She means it just for comfort, a quick peck, and she's surprised when Faith immediately tilts her face, capturing Buffy's lips in another, deeper kiss. There's a desperation here that's familiar to Buffy, after so many years with Faith. An urgent, cavernous hunger, the yearning for reassurance, to feel wanted, to feel herself made precious in Buffy's touch. 

Buffy tries her best to sate that need, to pour all of her love, the seriousness of her promise I will protect you, I won't let you be hurt into the kiss. She slides one hand up to press into Faith's back, the space between her shoulder blades, to keep their bodies close. The other hand she cards through Faith's hair, nails light against her scalp, the way that always seems to calm her down. Buffy opens her mouth when she feels Faith’s tongue brush against her lips. She lets Faith in, swallows Faith’s answering whimper, thinking You can have anything you ask me for, I will never turn you away. Wishing she could somehow reach into Faith's heart, untangle all the painful, knotted emotions of her childhood hurts, contenting herself with this instead: loving her now, not letting her forget or doubt it.

“Love you,” Faith whispers, voice raw, when they break apart. “Sorry, I'm — Buffy, I really, really—”

“I know,” Buffy says, kissing her again, lingering, sweet. “I know. I love you too. Now let's go. Let me take you someplace warm.”

[mk-oc-imagines]

Shang Tsung x Quan Chi Headcanons

-Both SFW and NSFW

-Headcanons based on MK1 story mode and my own interpretation

-Writing under read more

SFW

They were attracted to each other from the start but were too isolated in their lives to pit a finger in their feelings

If they can, they are always side by side

It's a comfort they found on accident

Quan Chi is the only one who can touch Shang Tsung's things and vice versa

Neither of them can sleep in comfy beds - Shang Tsung prefers a pillow and some thin sheets, Quan Chi can sleep on the ground without anything

Quan Chi's mining experience comes in handy

"What is so important about this rock?" "That is black obsidian, you fool."

They will have troubles breaking apart some rocks and Quan Chi just waltzes over, takes the pickaxe and in one swift move breaks it, gives it back and leaves without any word

Shang Tsung: 'I wish that were me'

Their moves while casting magic stems from their backround - Shang Tsung is more elegant and gracious, while Quan Chi is more calculated and does not make any unnecessary moves that would drain energy

Quan Chi observes as Shang Tsung makes new elixirs and potions

At first, Shang Tsung thought Quan Chi was going to criticize him but when none came it made him even more uneasy

"Why are you here?" "Am I not allowed to watch my partner work?"

Since then it became their routine

Neither of them liked physical touch at the start

They touched each other on accident when they were reaching for the same thing

It was like they were burned

Shang Tsung keeps his distance but Quan Chi is left wanting more

Quan Chi initiates their close proximity, hand on Shang Tsung's shoulder, brushing their shoulders together

When Shang Tsung works, Quan Chi looks over his shoulder, pressing his chest to Shang Tsung's back, placing his hands next to Shang's

Just to see that soft blush

Shang Tsung wants but he doesn't know how to ask

So instead of asking verbally, he gives hints

While working, pulls his hair to the side, exposing the back of his neck

Quan Chi grows weak

And presses his lips to the exposed skin

Shang Tsung tenses up, shudder running trough him

Quan Chi thinks he has hurt him and backs away and doesn't initiate more close encounters

Shang Tsung keeps giving hints but it is like Quan Chi doesn't even see

It's Shang Tsung who has had enough and corners Quan Chi in a secluded area

And Shang Tsung can't say what he wants so he just pulls Quan Chi into s kiss

It's quick and clumsy and Shang Tsung's cheeks are *burning*

When Quan Chi doesn't react, Shang Tsung is ready to bolt but gets stopped when he is pulled into a deep kiss

The rest is a history from there

Shang Tsung is the little spoon

One wouldn't think that they would be a healthy couple, but they are

Always asking for consent

Well, Quan Chi does

Shang Tsung still doesn't know how to ask for affection so he gives hints

Quan Chi learned to understand but is trying to teach Shang Tsung to voice what he wants

They can get easily overwhelmed with affection and touches - so they learned how to show or tell

Shang Tsung finds himself tracing Quan Chi's tattoos

They love to have a quiet sit down and enjoy a book or a snack

NSFW

Quan Chi is soft

Peppers the small scars Shang Tsung with kisses

They take everything slow

Quan Chi holds Shang Tsung close while they are joined as one

Shang Tsung is crying and sobbing mess each time - not because he's hurting, it's because he's in overwhelming pleasure

Quan Chi whispers sweet things as he makes love to Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung leaves scratches on Quan Chi's back

Quan Chi lets Shang Tsung explore, earning his trust

Shang Tsung asks for no marks and Quan Chi obliges

- So my brain went bloop halfway through, feel free to add your own!

[sepherinaspoppies]

Tell It To My Heart

pairing: Original Male Character x Modern! Reader x Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen

summary: In her honeymoon with her new husband, Armando, she can not help but crave her first husband's touch, Aemond.

warnings: mentions of slight violence, handjob, p and v sex, and future spoilers to my main story. reader is Latina!

wc: 2,478

main story masterlist

my masterlist

notes: I'm still deciding if I should let Armando live or not lol. but anyways enjoy besties! btw Armando's face claim is Danny Ramirez ;)

“M’ not drunk, mi amor.” (my love)

Armando bibulously says as she settles her, now husband, into their honeymoon bed. She chuckles, shaking her head side to side in disbelief. “Sure you aren’t, I’ll be the judge of that in the morning when you wake up with that hangover.” She playfully quipped back, untying Armando’s shoes to get him nice and comfortable. 

“Well I had to drink for two since you can’t—” 

“Hmm, I never asked you to drink for me, Armando.” She continued to tease, holding his gaze. 

Armando smiled lovingly before he sat up straight as his tipsy self could, “I know you didn’t but I wanted to, Mrs. Flores.” It was not the new surname that made her blush beet red, but the low and suggestive timbre of his voice. 

Armando’s smile slowly abated into an angry expression as his eyes trailed from the precious diamond wedding he slid hours ago, to the faded scars around her wrists. One could hardly see them from afar but up close where he sat, he was able to make out thick circular and pink markings. 

Armando had known the cause for such ghastliness. She had confessed the whole elusive truth to Armando, in the following weeks she had moved in with him to Oaxaca. It happened when Armando started growing concern for the sixth time in a row, waking up to ear-piercing screams in the middle of the night from his fiance. 

She expected him to push her away or call her crazy, that she’d been forcefully transported into a world she only knew existed in books. Armando’s expression showed nothing of disbelief or skepticism, he listened to everything attentively letting his amor explain it all to him. (love)

What Armando could not wrap his head around, was what kind of man could ever do such malice in the name of love? Love is kind, tender, and respectful. At least that’s how Armando grew up with defining it. 

Now that they were finally together, he vowed that he would never hurt or mistreat his wife. And may the Gods strike him down if he ever did. 

She trembled as her curly headed husband brought her hands closely to study them. His touch was delicate, making sure he didn’t press too firmly on the pink scars. 

“I meant what I said in my vows,” Armando softly speaks, his brown eyes holding steady against her own. “That I will never hurt or mistreat you.” 

“I know you won’t.” 

“But at any given point that I do, you can smash a wine bottle on my head too.” Armand laughed, and immediately she threw her head back, joining in to his giggles.

After she explained all the details of her grand escape, Armando tried to hide his amused smile, proud that she’d knocked Aemond out with a wine bottle to his head. Though what was more hysterical, was Aemond orgasming in the process. She did not mention that to Armando, not that he needed to know. 

Armando’s hands intertwined with her own as his lips brushed the skin where her scars laid, giving featherlike pecks all around. She sighed, closing her eyes, comforted by the feeling of her new husband’s warmth. 

“As long as I’m alive, you and our child are safe.” Armado promised devoutly. If it were possible, her heart almost soared out of her chest. 

When Armando confessed his love for her, minutes before he got down on one knee, she had asked him if he could still love her pregnant with another man’s baby. That did not discourage Armando one bit, the twenty-five year old loved her and the child she was carrying. To him a baby was one of the greatest blessings a couple could have, and Armando would help raise and care for their child like a good husband would do. 

In Armando’s eyes, the frijolito was his too. (little bean)

Blood doesn’t make you family. Family is who is there by your side, through the good and the bad and who love you regardless. 

Armando paused, his face becoming crestfallen. “I-I know you may not love me—” He stuttered full of nerves before she interrupted.

“Armando.”

“But… I do want this marriage to work. And I’m willing to wait as many decades more until you are ready to give me your corazón.” (heart)

She hesitantly shifted, before she swung her legs to either side of Armando’s to sit on his lap. Armando’s eyes widened in full surprise, taken back at her sudden boldness. They’ve never sat this close before nor been in such an intimate position. 

They have kissed, yes, but only mere pecks to each other’s cheeks and once on the lips when the priest declared them as man and wife. 

Armando knew his wife had no love for physical contact. Especially if she did not see it coming. After both Alys and Aemond, she wanted no one close to touching her. Though, she did feel guilty when Armando would approach her in a hug after coming home tired from work. 

Little by little she tried to work over her fear. First it was holding pinkies to the mercado but with a good distance between them. Then once that voice inside her head became hushed, she granted him permission to hold her hand out in public, shoulder to shoulder. (market)

The pecks began when a certain desire started blooming inside her. It was natural, of course, her doctor told her so. So when Armando came home with a bag full of tacos and a bundle of her favorite flowers, she approached him with multiple kisses to his face. 

Later on that night, she ashamedly humped her pillow with Aemond’s tunic she kept during her escape back to the modern world. For some reason she could not explain, she didn’t get rid of it. The lustful part of her was overjoyed she didn’t as she used it for the sweet release her body deeply craved. 

In such a position, she could smell Armando’s sandalwood cologne and admire the freckles she never knew he had. She thought about what Alys had said, about opening her heart out to him. 

Little by little. 

“Mi corazón es tuyo.” She whispered softly, her lips brushing his. Armando didn’t have time to respond, choosing rather to tug the back of her neck to close the thin gap between them. (my heart is yours)

He groaned at the softness of her lips he desperately yearned for. Her kiss topped any others his lips laid on. The sort of kiss worth dying for. If she didn’t want to continue further, Armando could finish just by this alone. 

She swiped her tongue on his bottom lip, requesting access before he granted it to her. His kiss was the opposite to what Aemond’s had been. With Aemond, it was needy, rushed, and possessive. But Armando kissed her delicately, without hurry, and most importantly consensually. 

Armando began to whine as her hips started to slightly rock against his pelvis, where he knew his member was surely growing hard. 

“Wait,” Armando suddenly pulled away. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I’m perfectly content with just watching our telenovela and ordering some tortas and aguas frescas.”

She giggled, using her hands to push his chest down onto the bed. “It is our honeymoon, it would be a shame if we didn’t break the bed in.” Besides they could do all that in the comfort of their home, she wholeheartedly wanted him.

“I’m sure I want this, Armando.” 

It was all Armando needed to hear, but before acting he needed to confess something he thought was embarrassing. “Um, I’m gonna need you to help me. I’ve actually never done this before and I reckon one of us oughta know what they’re doing.” He admitted with his eyes casting downward. 

Her jaw dropped at his unexpected confession, “You’re a virgin?” She reassured, wanting to hear it again. Armando nodded with his eyes closed, awaiting for her to get off him. Though he wished she didn’t. 

“I’ve only done it once, though I don’t recall much of it. We can both figure it out together.” She figured that if he confessed something private about him, so could she. 

Armando opened his eyes and gave her an encouraging smile. 

They began making a work out of their clothes, she anxiously chuckled when she couldn’t reach the zipper of her dress but with Armando’s help the garment slid right down at her waist, exposing her bare breasts to Armando’s curious eyes. 

“Beautiful.” He murmured loud enough for her to hear. With a nod of approval, he palmed each heavy breast and almost immediately pulled back as she gasped in both relief and pleasure, small beads of milk running down his fingers. 

Armando hummed at the taste, it was sweet. He found himself a little jealous of their unborn child for it would be dining on her sweet breasts. 

“Please use your mouth,” She abashedly pleaded, pushing her breasts close to his face. Armando didn’t need to be told twice, he took each pebbled nipple to his mouth, swirling and suckling his tongue, digesting her sweetness. 

She sighed, lacing her fingers through his curls, tugging his head back for another kiss. Little droplets of her milk remained on his lips yet she didn’t care. 

Armando’s free hand pulled down the rest of her dress off, leaving her with just her white lacy underwear. He cheekily smiled, it had been a gift from him for their wedding but she was unaware of it. 

Her fingers unlooped the red tie around Armando’s neck, throwing it somewhere across the room along with his dress shirt. She let her hands wander around the smoothness of his chest, feeling his heart race at her palm. 

Armando shuddered once her fingers started to trail down the patch hair right below his belly button, stopping right on the belt of his pants. “Can I?” She questioned, nudging her head to where he needed her the most. 

Armando fervently nodded, “Gods, yes, please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.” 

She giggled, unbuckling the belt, his pants and boxers down his legs. With curiosity, she let her eyes linger on his cock. It was a good length. Enough to not hurt her the slightest. Where Aemond’s was impressively long and overly thick, Armando was less smaller yet firmer. 

She thought about what her friends had told her: “Sometimes big doesn’t always mean great.” 

Gods she hoped so. 

She reached forward, wrapping her hand around his length, hot, heavy, and pulsating. Armando mewled, instinctively bucking his hips up desperate for some friction. Wanting to give her husband just what he yearned, she began to give him slow pumps up and down his length. His sounds of pleasure increased and she found herself also releasing soft moans, getting wetter and wetter by it alone. 

“Shit, I’m gonna come.” Armando heavily panted. She worked her hand faster, brushing her thumb lightly on his flushed tip, causing him to stutter his release. 

There was a dazed look in Armando’s eyes as he tried to take in the aftereffects of his climax. However, the sight of his wife bringing her come-covered hand to her mouth, instantly made him grow hard again. 

By all means, Armando’s taste wasn’t unpleasant and it resembled the amounts of oranges he often ate. 

She leaned forward to kiss Armando again, allowing him to taste how sweet he was. He ardently kissed her back with equal fervor, flipping them around so that she laid beneath him. Her huge bump pressed against his lower stomach, a primal feeling he absolutely loved. 

After pulling down her underwear, Armando slowly started to make his way down between her thighs, when she looped her fingers through his hair. “I want you right now,” She writhed against the sheets. 

Armando arched a brow, “You don’t want me to return the favor?” He pouted whilst looking down there. She shook her head, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

Though Armando wanted to have just a simple taste of her goodness, he did as she wished for. He gave himself a few more tugs before swiping his tip between her folds, gathering some of her excessive wetness to not hurt her as he went inside. 

Her eyes, which she did not realize were closed, shot open. There was a slight sting, not painful enough to move away but sufficient to feel little shocks of pleasure. With Aemond, it had hurt even with the two rounds of preparation before with his mouth and fingers. 

Armando’s eyes rolled at the back of his head, he didn’t know if he could last in such paradise he felt. She was so warm, wet, and tight around him. 

He took a deep breath and with a nod of encouragement, he slowly thrust his hips at an angle that made her squeeze his length so deliciously. “You feel so good, amor. So fucking good,” Armando praised, rubbing his palm around her belly. 

She moaned against his neck at the praise. While the speed of his thrusts felt good, it wasn’t enough to get her there. She wanted him to go faster and harder, to fill every single crevice within her that desperately needed to be filled. 

Shame started to loom at her as she subconsciously knew she craved the way Aemond hit that special spot inside that had her moaning loud, deep in the castle of Harrenhal. 

Even universes away she craved him. 

And she hated it. 

“Faster, please.” She pleaded, bucking her hips up with his thrusts.

Armando halted, moving his head out of her neck. “I don't want to hurt the baby.” Last thing Armando wanted was to cause her premature labor. She was still months away from her due date but he didn’t want to risk it. 

She shook her head, “You won’t, please. Por favor amor, I need it.” (please love)

Armando hesitantly quickened his thrusts, feeling his euphoric release closely approaching. 

She rolls her hips against his, it was slightly better but still not enough. She almost wanted to cry in desperation, instead she grips Armando’s hips, guiding him into that special spot. Her grip was vice-like causing Armando to hiss in both pain and pleasure. He only needed a few more thrusts to near his end. 

She moans when she starts to feel it. “Oh Gods,” She whimpered, digging her nails on Armando’s hip bones, tugging him deeper and harder similar to Aemond’s movements. 

Armando’s release washes over him like a tide. He never felt this good before, especially with the woman he always loved. He lets his wife chase her pleasure like the good husband he is. 

But what he hears next causes his loving smile to drop. 

“Oh, Aemond!” 

Notes: I'm sorry Armando lol.

[goosewriting]

Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs. 

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up. 

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do. 

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest. 

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days. 

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you. 

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam. 

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?” 

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling. 

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary. 

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy. 

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?” 

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work. 

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on. 

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice. 

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up. 

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink. 

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?” 

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!” 

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!” 

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation. 

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other. 

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise. 

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?” 

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest. 

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff. 

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him. 

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head. 

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins. 

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise. 

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment. 

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go. 

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure. 

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight. 

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest. 

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth. 

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal. 

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year. 

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh. 

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry. 

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight. 

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead. 

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying. 

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts. 

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower. 

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself. 

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep. 

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame. 

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out. 

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants. 

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch. 

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left. 

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face. 

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming. 

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart. 

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use. 

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance. 

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you. 

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again. 

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left. 

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that. 

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe. 

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world. 

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now. 

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn. 

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck. 

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch. 

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom. 

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree. 

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast. 

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro. 

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves. 

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project. 

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet? 

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself. 

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look. 

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable. 

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you. 

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says. 

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose. 

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face. 

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.  

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things. 

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on. 

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. 

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever. 

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven. 

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out. 

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place. 

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?”

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy. 

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both. 

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes. 

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover