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annisthree · 2 years

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Chapter I: Welcome home

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Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~6k

Warnings: Explicit language, brief mentions of death, brief mentions of sex, fluff

Chapter s_ummary: Not long after that unfortunate mission during which Saw Gerrera almost had her blow up an Imperial weapon factory along with all of its workers, Marla Reid became part of Jan Doddona's rebel cell, introduced by captain Cassian Andor. Originally stationed on Dantooine, they were quickly forced to move to avoid detection, which led them to settle on Yavin IV.

A/N: Cross-posted on AO3 (same username)

(Does this ever get less terrifying?)

// Revised on 26th Jan 2023. Again, cosmetic changes, plot remains the same

Throughout her life, Marla knew many homes - too many for her to still care about having one. First, there was Taris, back when there were still four of them. She could barely remember the place, mainly from her parents' stories. Then, Corelia, a place tainted by the deaths of her brother and father. Then, Carida and the Republic Defense Academy, where she fell in love with flying and where she witnessed first-hand the fall of the Republic. Then, briefly, an imperial prison on Onderon, under some bullshit charges that involved the words 'assault' and 'Imperial security forces'. Then, Saw's base on Onderon, after he and his band of angry misfits released her (and some other known sceptics of the Imperial rule) from her sentence. Then this, the Rebel base on Dantooine. And soon enough, it would be Yavin IV.

It didn't take much convincing for her to join Dodonna's Rebel cell. After the events of Malastare, she was angry and bitter, but that did not temper her aching urge to be in the heat of the battle. The next day after the factory incident, she was already en route to Dantooine, and the day after that, she officially became a part of the operation, on Captain Andor's recommendation (of which he still occasionally liked to remind her).

She quickly gained a reputation for her flying skills. She led many bold missions, defying the odds more than once and nearly crashing the Blackbird on several occasions. Sometimes, she was also tasked with providing backup - a lot of Dodonna's operations relied on espionage and undercover missions, and from time to time, when things went south, she would have the undeniable honour of barging in and doing what that one year with Saw Gerrera taught her - complete bloody chaos. She always considered herself a pilot first, but she never missed an opportunity to get involved beyond simply dropping the crew off and picking them up after some time. Whatever it took to rescue her from having to wait in the cockpit for hours, waiting for the spies to do their spying.

'Ready to go?' a familiar voice, one that years ago mortified her in the storage room of that weapon factory on Malastare, woke her up from her thoughts.

She would never admit it out loud, but Cassian Andor, apart from being her captain, was also one of the few people she would ever describe as a friend. She wouldn't go as far as saying they were close - neither of them was too outspoken or open about... well, anything, really. But maybe that's what worked so well - whenever something was wrong, they both knew they could sulk in each other's company, sitting in silence and distracting themselves with alcohol.

Which, of course, didn't change the fact that she simply loved getting on his nerve from time to time, just to remind him that - captain or not - he had no power over her.

Looking back at the empty room, Marla shrugged, feigning indifference. She picked up the embarrassingly small bag containing all her earthly belongings and signalled her readiness to depart.

A sudden, sharp tug in her stomach and a loud beep of the navicomputer told her they had arrived. Before she made any deliberate decisions, her hands were already finding all the buttons and levers, easing the ship into the atmosphere.

'Well, ladies and gentlemen, here we are.'

Yavin IV was covered in a blanket of thick fog, golden from the warm morning sun. The lower they descended, the more details they could single out: the dense and seemingly infinite jungle; then, the narrow strands of blue interwoven with the greenery; and finally, the massive stone structure towering over everything else in sight.

'Initiating the landing sequence.'

The sound of shuffling feet behind her told her the crew began preparing for the touchdown.

There were five of them, currently all strapping into the seats in the cockpit of a modified Kom'rk fighter nicknamed the Blackbird. She and Cassian were seated in the pilot seats, their faces lit with the colourful flashing lights of different controls and screens. Right behind there was Zafe. Marla remembered the surprise of seeing him on the base for the first time - they had known each other before from the Academy and lost contact after the fall of the Republic. They joined the same year and had some classes together; although, after some time, Marla decided to focus on becoming a pilot, whereas Zafe was always more inclined towards studying strategy. Still, she liked the guy and was always happy to spar with him or grab a drink and exchange some gossip.

Next to Zafe, there was Aevie. A short, blue-skinned Pantoran, she was somewhat withdrawn and quiet, but her tiny frame helped her get into the tightest shafts and sneak up virtually anywhere. On top of that, she was very skilled with technology and security systems, which had proven to be a significant asset to their team more than once already. She was also the newest addition to their crew, having joined only half a year ago.

And finally, at the back of the cockpit, grunting and wiggling in his seat, there was Salvatore, a burly man in his fifties. He was a veteran of the Clone Wars, where he served in the Planetary Security Forces. Despite his age, he was still an excellent soldier and helped them shoot their way out of a tight spot on many occasions. Now, finally strapped in his seat, he was craning his neck to asses the sights outside the viewport.

'Doesn't seem to we're gonna have a welcome party,' he declared after scanning the horizon.

'Don't worry, Sal, we'll find you something to shoot at.'

'Okay, just to manage your expectations, the landing pad has clearly seen better days and the visibility's shit,' Marla interrupted. 'You might wanna hold onto something.'

'What's the matter? Surely the Rebellion's self-proclaimed best pilot can handle a little bit of fog...?' Zafe teased her.

'Wanna take over the controls, buddy?' she smirked in his direction. 'Be my guest.'

'Over my dead body,' mumbled Cassian. His eyes were still glued to the viewport and the landing pad beneath them, but a slight grin crept onto his lips. 'Won't let you crash another one of my ships.'

'Heeeeey. Not fair. It was a snowstorm.'

'First of all,' Marla said, turning back towards Zafe, 'it wasn't a snowstorm; you're just a shit pilot, buddy. Second of all... I'm sorry, Cassian, your ship?'

'Well, I mean technically I am the captain, which would make this ship...'

'Oh, you've got to be-'

'Kids!' Salvatore bellowed loudly, stopping Marla in her tracks before she could articulate anything more than an outraged puff. 'You know I love both of you. Marla, you are a great pilot. Cassian, you are a great captain. Now, respectfully, can it. You can claw each other's eyes out once we land.'

Still slightly offended, Marla shifted her focus onto the control panel in front of her. If she were to look at Cassian right now, she would see a carefully repressed grin hidden beneath the mask of concentration, which would surely aggravate her even more. Thankfully, though, she has decided not to grace him with attention, and so the rest of the flight was spent in silence, interrupted only by an occasional rattling noise from under the console ('Mental note: check the power subsystem before the next mission').

The landing pad has indeed seen better days. However, the mere fact that there was a landing pad to begin with was a luxury they weren't used to.

Marla was careful with her enthusiasm. It all seemed a bit too perfect, a bit too much of a lucky coincidence. Sure, the place was in ruins, but beneath the battered surface was a structure of an actual base, a base that someone operated from hundreds of years ago and then abandoned, leaving it for them to find. The Rebellion had scouted the place thoroughly, raking the entire base and its surroundings before deciding to make it their next home. Still, she couldn't shake off the feeling of hesitance. Things just didn't come as easily, right?

The base was empty; their crew was the first to be sent to confirm the previous reports and deliver some of the essentials before the rest arrived. The next day, the place would slowly start filling with people, running around with screwdrivers and hammers and whatever the kriff else you use to make a ruin like this usable again. Marla didn't care much for being a repairman, praying to be shipped out on the first possible mission and not return until the restoration was complete. Still, she was hoping this additional day would help her secure some nice quarters, preferably single, preferably with a window.

The rest of the day was spent unloading their cargo, scouting the location and assessing the work to be done. After an initial reconnaissance, Cassian disappeared to report back to the command. Aevie and Zafe wandered off to find and map the best places to install shield generators, and Sal began moving the rubble out of the landing pad. Having nothing better to do (or, rather, wanting to do something so that Sal doesn't draft her into moving rocks from one pile to another), Marla decided to grab her belongings and find a place to unpack.

As she wandered through the maze of empty corridors, she tried to assess the potential of each room. After a while, she slowly caught herself warming up to the idea of settling here. She didn't expect this to become her home - she had long given up on the concept, the closest thing being that little nook in the cargo bay of the Blackbird. Still, she could imagine walking through these corridors after a long, exhausting mission, dreaming of a shower and a warm bed. Or finding a spot where they could have a sabacc game, complete with a bottle of Tevraki whisky and loud laughter. Or finding a desolate corner where she could hide, just like that nook on the Blackbird, and where she could wrap herself in a blanket and pretend she was back at the Academy, hiding from her professors, smoking smuggled cigarettes and dreaming of the battles ahead.

But first, she needed to find a room good enough to transform into her quarters and yet inconspicuous enough for the command not to squeeze five more bunks into. She really, really missed not having roommates.

The following day, the base started slowly filling up with people. More and more ships were arriving, carrying all of the equipment from Dantooine, as well as their entire weapon arsenal and a couple of weeks' worth of provisions.

The entire crew of the Blackbird, minus Cassian, was huddled together in the corner of the hangar bay, doing their best to look inconspicuous - which of course, made them look absolutely suspicious.

'I think we can pull it off, but we need to be smart about it.'

'Well, what's the plan, then?' Aevie murmured under her breath, her eyes scanning the other people in the hangar bay.

'The… goods… are in the Valkyrie's cargo hold, brown crates, stacked behind those durasteel rods we took from the old base. Sal and I can move them over, but we need to make sure we don't draw attention. Anyone starts sniffing around, and at best, our cosy little spot will become full of people. Or the stuff gets confiscated, and we get ourselves a priority ticket to the General's office. Or the brig. Do you think they've set up a brig already?'

'Don't know, don't wanna find out,' Sal answered quietly. 'So, when do we do it?'

'I say we go in during dinner; everyone should be in the mess hall. Hopefully, no one decides to have a romantic sunset walk around the landing platform.'

'Do we really have to be so… dramatic about this? It's not exactly illegal to be in possession of a couple of crates of Corellian whisky. And some Naboo red. And whatever else there is.'

'Sure. Do you want to explain to the General how Marla and I made a quick detour after the last mission and confiscated the entire storage room worth of alcohol from a bar on Ord Mantell?' Zafe grinned at Aevie, raising one of his eyebrows.

'Well, it's not theft if you're stealing from the Empire, right?'

'Yeah. I'm sure the Captain would be delighted to hear about our little unauthorised adventure. Sure he wouldn't have anything to say about it, especially not anything that would include the words irresponsible and stupid .'

'Come on, Marla, you're making him sound like a monster.'

'I'm making him sound like a bore. Which he is.'

'Okay, okay. So, dinnertime?'

'You've got it. And someone please bring some cards. I really feel like kicking Zafe's ass tonight.'

They gathered in the docking bay as soon as the smell of freshly cooked food filled the corridors. The enormous hall was dimly lit by the setting sun; clearly, they hadn't gotten around to installing any lights there yet. The area was crowded with different size crates and boxes, some open, some still sealed. The Valkyrie was one of the six ships docked in the bay at the time, not counting about a dozen X-wings sitting on the landing pad outside. As predicted, no one was diligent enough to work through dinner, the floor littered with hastily abandoned tools and parts.

'Where's Sal? He should have been here by now.'

'Maybe he couldn't resist the appetising aroma of whatever unidentified sludge they are serving as dinner.'

Right on cue, the man appeared from behind a corner, clad in a standard issue uniform that needed to be adjusted to accommodate his below-average height (pint-sized, he liked to call himself) and his broad frame. His face, partially hidden behind a huge and mostly grey beard, was now covered in sweat.

'This bloody climate will be the end of me. Well, come on, kids, no point standing here,' he said, wiping the sweaty forehead with a sleeve.

The four of them began marching towards the ship, trying their best to project confidence and a sense of purpose, in case someone did end up seeing them.

They barely made it halfway through when Aevie stopped abruptly and signalled for others to do the same. There was a figure on the other side of the hangar bay, right by the entrance, appearing to be working on one of the release mechanisms. Quietly, the group moved behind the nearest stack of crates and huddled together.

'What do we do? Should we come back later?' Aevie's whisper cut through the silence.

'Are you kidding? After dinner, this place will be flooded with people again. And we can't risk leaving the cargo on the ship for one more day; someone will finally notice a bunch of unlabelled crates that no one seems to be able to identify. We have to do it now.'

'So, what are you suggesting?' Marla raised her eyebrow, a small grin appearing on her lips.

'Glad you should ask,' Zafe smirked right back at her. 'We're gonna need you to go in there and provide distraction.'

'Why me?'

'Because we need our little scout,' he motioned at Aevie, 'To ensure the way is clear while Sal and I carry the crates.'

'I can carry the crates. Don't be a sexist pig.'

'I know you can. But, out of the four of us, you have the strongest bluff.'

Marla couldn't stop herself from laughing, 'We both know I do not. Remember that time on Nar Shadaa when you had me go undercover as Cassian's business partner? I almost got us killed within the first ten minutes.'

'Well, I'm sure you've learned a lot from that experience. Go.'

'You're planning to start without me, aren't you?'

'I would never. Go.'

'Fine. But the three of you owe me one. I'll collect this debt when you least expect it.' Marla sighed and threw them an agitated look. She peeked from behind their cover - the figure was still there, not recognisable in the dim light but clearly occupied by the electrical panel by the hatch door.

Throwing one last bitter look toward her friends, she took a deep breath and started walking in that direction. She tried to look casual and inconspicuous, like someone who would never even think about smuggling alcohol into the base and putting together a makeshift, unsanctioned cantina.

The closer she got, the more details of the mysterious figure she could make out. It was definitely a human, most likely a man, judging by the build and the short hair. He was wearing one of those standard Rebellion outfits that they had an entire storage room of, which didn't exactly tell her much. A couple of more steps and she started distinguishing the colours - the dark hair, the beige shirt, the... oh.

Great. The last person they wanted to bump into. She briefly considered turning back, but he must have heard her by now.

'Evening, Cassian. Not a fan of today's dinner menu?'

'What is today's dinner menu?' He was still focused on tinkering with the electrical panel.

'Dunno. Smells like shit, though.'

'Shocking.'

'Aren't you being a bit overzealous?' she suggested, at which he threw her a brief questioning look. She pointed at the panel. 'We do have mechanics, you know. They can handle it tomorrow.'

'Or I can just finish this up today.'

'Clearly, you're not doing so well.'

Cassian let out a loud sigh and turned around, resignation on his face, 'What is it that you want? Did you come all this way to comment on my engineering skills?'

'Come on, don't be so cross. I was actually doing a bit of work myself and needed a hand. Seeing how you're the only other person here, I figured I could ask you. Didn't realise you were in one of your cranky moods.'

'I...' Cassian sighed again, visibly giving up. Finally, he rubbed his forehead and gave her a resigned look. 'I can't deal with you right now. Okay. What do you need?'

'Well, I was rewiring the Blackbird's cooling sensors...'

'We do have mechanics, you know?' he interrupted her with the smallest hint of a sneer.

'Oh, being cheeky now, aren't we? Glad to see your mood is improving. I do know that. I also know I don't trust any of these rookies with my baby.'

'But you're asking me for help? I'm honoured.'

'Shut up, I have no choice. It's a two-man job; I need someone to check the readings on the control panel while I fix the wiring. Trust me, we wouldn't be having this conversation if it wasn't absolutely necessary,' Marla said, trying to project her usual confidence. In reality, her brain was flashing red alert signs, and she could feel her hands starting to sweat a little.

Good bluff, my ass.

Cassian visibly paused to consider something, inspecting her face thoroughly. That definitely didn't help her confidence. In a desperate attempt to throw him off the scent, she gave him her biggest, fakest smile.

'Pretty please?'

He took another moment to think but then rolled his eyes and put away the tools he was holding.

'Fine, let's go.'

Cassian knew Marla well enough to know that she was a terrible liar and to know exactly when she was trying to bluff. He was absolutely certain she was up to something.

Still, he decided to play along - he was curious to see why she was so desperately trying to distract him.

He followed her to their ship, trying carefully not to show how entertaining it was to watch her stiff, nervous gait and occasional witty remarks, which she surely thought sounded confident and inconspicuous. He had been having a pretty frustrating day so far, but watching her try so hard was delightfully entertaining.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Marla promptly disappeared under the ship's console and started tugging at some wires. Cassian was instructed to check the thermal stats on the control panel, then to note down the thermostat readings in the cargo bay, and then to confirm the central console again. It was not a two-man job. He quietly marvelled at how desperately she was trying to come up with new tasks for him and how absolutely inconspicuously she was looking out of the viewport when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

'Okay, I think we're done here. Thanks. You're relieved of duty,' she finally announced after having him run to the cargo bay and back at least five times.

'Are you sure? Maybe we need to double-check? Surely, you don't want us to freeze on our next mission,' he mentally reprimanded himself for the obvious provocation. Luckily, with all her nervousness, Marla didn't seem to realise he was making fun of her.

'Positive. Now go.'

'Okay. See you tomorrow at-' he started, but she was already gone, clearly in a hurry. He stood there for a brief moment, and then, with a spark of childish excitement burning in his body, he began quietly following her.

'I knew you would start without me. Stupid bantha-fuckers.'

When Marla finally entered the room, her friends were sitting on crates in a circle, bottles in hand, cheerful banter filling the room.

'Oh, come on, you will catch up. Besides, what the hell took you so long? You were supposed to distract that guy's attention, not invite him to a romantic dinner.'

Marla furrowed her brow, painfully aware of a slight hint of redness that was creeping onto her cheeks. She quickly approached Zafe, grabbed the bottle he was holding (triggering some unhappy moans on his end) and took a long sip.

'The guy was Cassian. So, first of all, you're fucking welcome. And second of all, I had to pretend I needed help with the Blackbird's wiring. I had to drag him there, quickly disconnect the thermal panel, and then pretend to be fixing it. I had him run around and check all the thermal readings in each part of the ship. Several times. This will seriously destroy my reputation as a genius engineer. So, again - you're fucking welcome. I'll think really hard about that favour you owe me,' Marla promised, taking another long sip and discarding the empty bottle. 'Okay, someone get me another one.'

'Can you ask nicely?' a familiar voice reached them from outside the room. Cassian was leaning on the doorframe with a blank expression, slightly raising one brow.

They all froze, shooting hesitant looks at one another.

'Maker, why are you such a creep? Anyone ever tell you sneaking up on people like this is not socially acceptable behaviour?' Marla broke the silence.

'Socially acceptable, huh? Do tell me more.'

'Hey, Cassian!' Salvatore yelled joyfully, detecting tension that surely wouldn't get them out of this situation. 'We were just talking about you! Come, join us. You'll never believe what we have found in these creepy old ruins.'

Cassian's emotionless face was replaced by a frown that was screaming I am so done with you. He rolled his eyes, made sure to give every single one of them a disappointed look, and went in to sit down on one of the empty crates.

'You wouldn't tell on us, right?' Sal asked jovially, trying his best not to reveal his unease.

'Why would I? You said it yourself; you just found all this. Funny, though. I thought I saw crates very similar to these on the Valkyrie when we were unloading.'

'Well, buddy, a crate is a crate. You've seen one, you've seen them all.'

'I suppose... So, what did the Massassi leave us?' The tension started slowly decreasing, but they were still cautious. Aevie, being closest to the crate that still contained some bottles, began listing the contents.

'See? I told you he's not a bore,' Zafe sneered at Marla. Cassian shifted his gaze at her, raising one eyebrow. She just shrugged and grinned at him innocently.

Cassian knew he should keep a straight face, but in all reality, he was rather amused with the whole farce, as well as the fact that they felt like they had to hide from him. He found it rather endearing, like children sneaking out to steal candy from the cupboard. It seemed like he really grew fond of those idiots.

He didn't exactly care about making friends. He never really had a particular need to surround himself with people - if anything, he always preferred limiting his close circle as tightly as possible. He knew he had a bit of a reputation on the base; there were people who misinterpreted his need to maintain distance as a demonstration of superiority, while others still simply considered him boring. He didn't particularly mind either, as long as it meant he could steer clear of drama and unwanted attention.

Still, he grew close with his crewmates - a fact which worried him a little, since he was generally convinced that any sort of closer connection in times like these was potentially troublesome. War was not a good moment to make friendships.

Then again, there's only so long one can brood in isolation. Sometimes - not too often, but still - he would find himself needing some company, and he was grateful he had a handful of people he could feel comfortable around. Even if it meant breaking some of his own rules.

'So, I'm hearing we have a new class of recruits coming tomorrow,' Zafe started, eager to change the subject.

'Yeah, I have Flight 101 with them. Hope they're less useless than the last group.'

'Marla, they weren't useless. You're just a particularly shit teacher.'

'Well, excuse me for not explaining everything five hundred times. I won't be sitting with them in an X-wing, holding their hands. Up there, if you hesitate, you die. So if they're not listening carefully to every word that leaves their instructor's mouth and repeating it like gospel every day before going to bed, then yeah, they are out.'

'No wonder we're short on pilots,' Zafe commented quietly, immediately hiding his face in a glass full of alcohol.

'At least the ones we have are good. You're welcome,' Marla sent him a wide, playful grin.

'Just please, stick to teaching them the intended way of using the X-wing cockpit,' Cassian murmured. His face said nothing, but there was a playful spark in his eye as he fixed his gaze on Marla.

'Wait, what?' Aevie, being the only one in the group who hadn't heard the story, took a moment to piece things together. 'Do you mean…?'

Salvatore and Zafe exploded with drunken laughter. Despite the subtle redness creeping onto her cheeks, Marla maintained a cocky smirk and did not break eye contact with Cassian.

'Do you have a problem with my teaching methods, Captain?'

'Only when they result in traumatising a bunch of mechanics who were unlucky enough to get the night shift.'

'Nothing traumatising about that,' her grin widened.

'You really slept with a recruit from your class? In an X-wing? Damn, I'll drink to that, kiddo,' Sal raised his glass enthusiastically. Marla just cocked her eyebrow and raised her own glass.

'Don't encourage her,' Zafe joined. 'You should be outraged. She used her status to lure the poor boy to bed. Or, well, a cockpit.'

'The boy was older than me. And what, am I not allowed to sleep with people below my rank? That doesn't leave much choice.'

'You could consider, erm, fulfilling your needs off base,' Aevie suggested.

'What, like Cassian?' Sal chuckled a bit too loudly and gave the captain a nudge. Cassian only cocked his brows, returning his attention to his drink.

'Don't pretend, Captain. We know what those undercover missions really are,' Zafe joined, leaning forward.

'Don't… You clearly have too much built-up frustration if you're fantasising about my undercover missions, Zafe.'

'Oh, you have no idea-'

'Ew. That's it, we're changing the subject,' Aevie firmly stated. 'Let's see...'

'How do you think we can spruce things up here?' Sal chimed in. 'I'm thinking we could put some shelves on the wall and then use some of these empty crates to build a bar. And those smaller ones can be seats, at least until we raid an Imperial diner or something. And we can paint the place and put up a sign.'

'Sounds like an awful lot of work,' Marla proclaimed loudly, picking a random bottle from the crate. She stumbled briefly on her way back, catching her balance at the last moment and subsequently bursting into drunken laughter.

Cassian rubbed his forehead and sighed, 'You're gonna be absolutely useless tomorrow.'

'As if she was particularly helpful sober,' Zafe sent Marla a wide grin, to which she responded with an exaggeratedly contorted grimace. 'What were you doing yesterday when we were setting up the shield generators?'

'Sightseeing,' she gave him her most innocent smile.

'My point exactly. Don't worry, Captain, we're gonna be exactly just as helpful as we always are.'

'Great,' Cassian concluded with a tired look on his face.

'See? I told you he is a bore.'

It took another couple of hours for them to decide they were ready to call it a day. Some, like Salvatore and Cassian, were in relatively good shape - the first of them due to his body mass and extensive experience, the latter out of responsibility and precaution. The rest were still conscious but had significant difficulty walking in a straight line.

'You're impossible,' Cassian commented, offering Marla his arm to hold onto.

'No, you're ... whatever,' Marla said in an accusatory tone, pointing her finger at his chest before briefly stumbling. Cassian raised both his eyebrows and focused all of his energy on stifling the smile that was trying to creep onto his face.

As she grabbed his arm, he could see the rest of their crew departing towards the hangar bay, with Sal supporting Aevie and Zafe just cheerfully zigzagging through the corridors. They have agreed that it would be best to sleep on the Blackbird until they manage to set up the barracks - the ship was big enough for each of them to have a small cabin, and it would definitely be more comfortable than sleeping on the floor inside the base.

And so, they slowly traversed the maze of corridors, led by Salvatore and Aevie, followed by the wobbly figure of Zafe, with Cassian and Marla closing the drunken parade. Their shadows danced to the music of their echoing voices, shifting and growing as they lit their way with flashlights. Cassian was mentally mapping the facility as they walked, noting the layout and thinking about which rooms could be used for what. From time to time, he had to catch Marla, who was tugging his arm in all possible directions.

After a lot of stumbling and several wrong turns, they finally reached their ship. With Marla still hanging off his sleeve, Cassian waited patiently as the remaining companions climbed onboard. Just as he was ready to get in, he felt Marla letting go of his arm and taking a step back.

'You go first,' she suggested, not looking at him.

Cassian threw her a suspicious look, 'You're up to something again,' he concluded after a moment of silence.

Marla reacted with the most innocent look she had in her repertoire.

'Marla.'

'Okay, I just need some air. Just gonna stretch my legs and take a quick walk outside.'

'Pretty dumb idea, even for you. Come on, you're going to bed.'

'Noo,' she whined. Cassian looked at her with a growing feeling of helplessness, but she was still stubbornly standing her ground.

'Marla-' he started, but she simply darted towards the exit, filling the whole hangar bay with the echoes of her thumping feet and barely stifled laughter.

Cassian sighed, rolled his eyes, looked around. And then, reluctantly, he followed.

'You're an idiot,' he announced, catching up to her in the middle of the landing pad outside. She was folded in half, laughing maniacally.

'And you're a bore.'

'Yes, you've mentioned. Several times this evening.'

'Come on,' she moaned, sitting down on the tarmac and looking up at him. 'It's never gonna be this quiet again. Just a couple of minutes, and we can go back. Deal?'

'Do I have a choice?' he mumbled, joining her on the ground.

She went quiet, staring at the vast jungle outside the landing pad. They could hear the loud rustle of the leaves, the sounds of animals calling through the darkness, and the humming of the shield generator in the distance. Marla was taking in the views, smiling gently as the wind tangled the loose strands of hair that escaped her tight braid.

It was indeed blissfully quiet, Cassian admitted, laying down and looking at the sky.

'Do you think any of this will matter?' she finally said after a few minutes of silence, her voice unexpectedly low and distant.

It took him a moment to process the sudden change of subject and tone.

'I don't know,' he answered. 'Does it matter if it matters? I mean, I can't really imagine not fighting, not doing anything. Even if, in the end, it amounts to nothing.'

She nodded slowly, still looking into the distance. Then, she lowered herself to the ground, positioning herself perpendicularly to his body and propping her head on his stomach.

Cassian muscles stiffened for a moment, but he quickly regained control. He suddenly realised he was tense, rummaging his head for something to say. Luckily, it didn't seem like Marla was interested in continuing the conversation; she focused her attention on a small pebble lying on the ground and began playing with it, turning it in her fingers and inspecting its shape from each angle. He watched her in silence, feeling the tension slowly leave him.

After a moment, she let go of the pebble, and her breathing became slower and more even. Cassian realised his own eyes were beginning to feel heavy, and so he carefully propped himself up and tapped her on the shoulder.

'Hey,' he whispered. 'Not a good idea. We're going inside.'

She mumbled something quietly in response but then began slowly getting up. He looked down at her and offered his hand to help her, which she happily took, hoisting herself up and finally standing on her feet.

'Thanks. This was nice,' she mumbled sleepily.

It was nice. Cassian felt himself smiling at her half-opened eyes, her tousled hair and her blushed cheeks, clearly still affected by the alcohol. They stood like this for a moment before he broke eye contact and silently reprimanded himself for acting like a teenager.

They started towards the ship, and soon enough, Marla was climbing onboard, trying to maintain her balance and groaning miserably. Cassian grabbed her by her shoulders and gently pushed her forward towards her cabin.

'Goodnight. Try not to be useless tomorrow,' he murmured, guiding her inside and leaning on her cabin door. She replied with a stifled laugh and a playful stare.

For the second time today, he found himself suddenly tensing and freezing. Marla just laughed again.

'Goodnight,' she said, punching the control button and closing the door right in his face, jerking him back to reality. He furrowed his brows, confused at his own reaction, and slowly began finding his way to his own cabin.

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original female character #andor #star wars #rogue one a star wars story #andor series #star wars fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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opedguy · 2 years

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Movement in Brittney Griner’s Release

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com),j Nov. 18, 2022.--Russia’s Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Rybakov said today that there’s more movement for a prisoner swap to get 32-year-old WNBA star Brittney Griner from a Russian penal colony and possibly 52-year-old former Marine Paul Whelan, imprisoned for spying since 2018. President Joe Biden, busy prosecuting his proxy war against the Kremlin using Ukrainian troops, has made discussions to get Griner out next to impossible. Talk recently about moving the Ukraine War to the peace table has improved Brittney’s chances of getting out of prison. Griner was arrested Feb. 17 in Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport en rout to playing for the Russian women’s basketball team UMMC Ekaterinburg. Airport authorities four cannabis laced vape-cartridges in Brittney’s luggage. When she went to trial in Moscow July 1, Birttney’s Russian attorneys said he accidentally put vape-cartridges in her luggage.

Griner offered evidence in her trial that the State of Arizona issued her a medical marijuana to deal with basketball-related injuries, proving Aug. 4 at her conviction that her cannabis possession was no accident. U.S. officials, including Biden, 59-year-old Secretary of State Antony Blinken and 45-year-old National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan all say Brittney was “wrongfully detained” antagonizing Russian authorities. Kremlin Spokeswoman Maria Zakharova said Brittney was not wrongfully detained under strict Russian drug laws. Today’s blackout on Biden’s national security team suggests that something, as Rybakov said, could be improving. Former New Mexico Gov. and U.N. Amb. Bill Richardson, 75, said he thought Brittney could be out by year’s end. Richardson has no secret information only a hunch based on freeing foreign prisoners in the past.

No one knows the deal to get Brittney and Paul Whelan out of Russian prison but Richardson suggested it could be a two-for-two swap, using convicted Russian arms smuggler Viktor Bout and some other unnamed Russian prisoner. When Russian prisoner former Marine Trevor Reed was released in April in another prisoner swap, Biden hoped that things would go as well for Griner. But months of fighting the Kremlin in a bloody proxy war in Ukraine soured Putin on cutting a deal with Biden. Recent talk of ending the conflict this week by 63-year-old Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Mark Miley might have helped Griner’s chances of getting out of a Russian penal colony. Talk of a new two-for-two prisoner swap renewed hopes that something could get done soon. Richardson has been quietly working behind the scenes to help pull of the long-awaited prisoner deal.

Biden’s hostile rhetoric toward Putin at the G20 in Bali, Indonesia didn’t help Brittney’s chances of seeing the light of day. “We have yet to arrive at a common denominator, but there is no doubt that Viktor Bout is among those discussed,” said Rybakov, reported in Russia’s Interfax News Agency. “We are definitely counting on a positive outcome,” Rybakov said, raising new hope for Griner’s release. Biden may have secretly promised Putin that in addition to another prisoner added into the deal, the Ukraine War may come to a close. Miley was emphatic that the war has no military solution and both parties should jump at the chance for a political solution. Whatever it takes to make it happen, it’s been an agonizing process for Griner’s wife Cherelle, who’s been waiting since Feb. 17 to get her back. Moving the Ukraine War to the peace table would go a long way in making it happen.

No question that the Ukraine War stalled any concrete talks to get Griner or Whelan out of Russian prisons. Statesmen like Richardson can only do so much when the circumstances don’t warrant negotiations. Biden can’t tell Ukraine’s 44-yar-old President Volodymyr Zelensky that he’s still trying to crush the Russian military and expect Putin to play ball. If Putin sees some concrete steps to end the Ukraine War, he’ll be more likely to negotiate with his American counterparts. When Reed got out in April, it was before 69-year-old Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin told an audience in Ramstein, Germany that the aim of the Ukraine Wars was to degrade the Russian military to the point it could no longer wage war. If that’s not a declaration of war, then what its? Biden and Aiustin made the war personal, not defending Ukraine but to topple the Russian Federation.

Rybakov’s statements today suggests that there’s movement on a prisoner swap to get Brittney out of prison behind the scenes. White House officials have been told no longer to call Brittney “wrongfully detained,” to wait-and-see whether a new two-for-two prisoner swap does the trick. Secret talk behind the scenes about de-escalating the Ukraine War may have moved the prisoner swap forward. Why would Putin strike any deal with the U.S. while Biden supplies Ukraine unlimited cash-and-arms to destroy the Russian military. If Americans learned anything from Britney’s ordeal, when you travel to countries like Russia don’t trying to flout their drug laws. Weed may be no big deal in America but it’s not the Russian Federation. Brittney’s judge wanted to hear that she didn’t understand strict Russian drug laws. Showing there’s positive movement, White House officials have buttoned up.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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shina913 · 2 years

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Gradation, Part 10 | JJK

Gradation, Part 10

gra·da·tion | \ grā-ˈdā-shən , grə- \

Definition: 1a: a series forming successive stages 1b: a step or place in an ordered scale 2: an advance by regular degrees 3: a gradual passing from one tint or shade to another –Source: Merriam-Webster

✮ ✮ ✮ Gradation Masterlist ✮ ✮ ✮

Pairing: JJK x Fem!reader

Rating: M (🔞); NSFW

Genre: BF2L; slow burn; fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 8.9K words

Warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF; so much cheesiness; romance; psychotherapy session; strong sexual language; riding; clit play; breast/nipple play; cussing; domestic life; unprotected!sex in a committed, monogamous relationship; engagement; marriage

Summary: On your wedding day, your fiancé leaves you at the altar. While reeling from the embarrassment and heartbreak, your best friend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal.

A/N: Here is the final installment! I have so many mixed feelings but I feel so much joy and relief at the same time--I just can't believe that this is the end. 😭😭 I am a huge sucker for full-circle moments so I hope I did these two justice.

I just want to give a huge S/O to @deepseavibez for indulging me while I obsessively talked about these two and just--everything going on in my brain. You were such a huge inspiration to me and you helped me rediscover how much I loved writing so...THANK YOU, my sister in angst! I'm sure it won't be long until I bug you about my next ideas...👀

Please let me know what you think or feel free to send questions 📩

Thank you for all the love you’ve shown Gradation!

Sunday dinner went surprisingly smoothly. The last time that Jungkook was here, he and your dad joked around and talked about the next limited release of the small-batch brew that he brought over.

The difference between then and now? Back then, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Tonight, things have considerably changed.

Of course–your dad, being your dad–couldn’t miss the chance at some good ol’ fashioned ribbing at the dinner table.

“You’re not both sleeping on the same bed, are you,” he attempts to say in his most menacing dad-voice.

Jungkook chokes on the mouthful of food that he just took in.

“Appa, I think it’s too late for that,” you said as you pat Jungkook’s back, making sure that he wasn’t suffocating.

Your dad cried out, immediately covering his ears. Jungkook has slept over at your family’s house–in your room–many times over the years. Never on the same bed but your dad (and occasionally Hobi) couldn’t help checking whether this boy would ever sneak under his little girl’s covers.

You let your dad finish his big speech about how precious you were to him, that he’s never lifted a finger towards you and how you deserved to always be treated with respect. After Jungkook nodded along, he immediately roared in laughter, slapping him on the shoulder which was his eventual sign of approval. Your dad was a man of few words and looked intimidating to people who didn’t know him well. Behind closed doors, he was just a warm and affectionate teddy bear.

The first time that he met Jungkook, he was very withdrawn as a child and barely spoke unless you were present. It took him a while to warm up to your parents, especially your dad. But your dad persisted–he stood on the sidelines, dropped him off at his house after his mom closed up shop so that Jungkook wouldn’t have to hang around waiting for the time. Driving home was always in silence with the exception of a quiet ‘thank you’ from him before exiting the vehicle and running into their front door.

One night, on one of their many quiet drives en route to Jungkook’s childhood home, he decided to have a little heart-to-heart with him.

While stopped at the curb, your dad asked for a few minutes as he glanced up at the rearview mirror while Jungkook sat in the back seat. He then turned his head around to address him directly.

“Jungkookie, I’m not trying to be your dad–you have one already,” he began gently. It made the little boy’s eyes look up directly at him.

“I just want you to know that if you need anybody to talk to, even if YN is not here, you can talk to me, okay? If you’re sad or mad–I know it’s hard for boys to talk about it but I want you to know that I am here to listen and you don’t have to feel bad about it.”

With that reassurance, Jungkook surprised him by giving him a brief hug and thanked him quietly once more for driving him home before he exited the car.

Since then, he and your dad have developed a closeness over the years. Sure, Jungkook still held back some but a shocker came to your dad when he called him a few years ago, wanting to talk in the middle of the night while he wandered aimlessly around the Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris after things ended with Lisa.

And just as he promised on that drive home, he stayed on the phone, listened and didn’t make him feel bad about it.

After dessert, you help your mom clean up in the kitchen. Hobi went back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, packing leftovers. Jungkook offered to help wash the dishes but you waved him off saying that you had it taken care of.

With that, he takes the opportunity to join your dad on the couch to catch the second half of the game.

“No beers tonight, Jungkook?”

Your mom calls out a warning from the kitchen. You swear, even at her age, she has the hearing of a bat–her eyesight has degraded some but you can’t get anything past her.

“Sorry, uncle,” he grimaced. “Auntie gave me a lot of grief that last time your gout started acting up.”

Your dad pouted at your mom then he lowered his voice. “You know, you don’t have to listen to them all the time,” he sniggered.

“Appa! Don’t corrupt my boyfriend,” you scolded playfully as you walked by them, bringing some dirty dishes to the sink.

“Your daughter wouldn’t have allowed me to live this long if I didn’t listen to her,” he joked.

“Good man,” he chortled, patting him on the shoulder.

As they settle on the couch, your dad’s expression turns somber.

“You know, I may not have told you this much while you were growing up but I want to let you know that you’ve always been part of this family. Your mother did a great job with you…and I’m sure that if your dad were still around, he would be very proud of you, too.”

Jungkook smiled ruefully. “Thanks, uncle. Thanks for treating me just like a son.”

“What are you talking about? You are one of my sons,” he says with a soft, wrinkled smile and a glint in his eye.

He patted him once on the shoulder again and pushed a lever to lean back on his recliner.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a soft smile and glanced behind him to see Hobi, who’s overheard the entire conversation, still standing by the dining table, smiling at his younger brother.

“Hi, Jungkook!” Your receptionist greeted him as he approached the front desk.

“Hey, Mina! Is YN still in a meeting?”

“Oh, I think I just saw her wandering down the hallway a second ago to go to the copy room. Is she expecting you?”

“No, I was going to surprise her for lunch.”

Just then, he sees you walking back to your office. You looked up from the papers you were reading and beamed at the sight of him standing by the reception area.

As soon as you lock eyes, you walk towards him and he thanks Mina while she waves him through.

“Hi!” You hugged him and gave him a chaste kiss, fully aware that you were still on the main floor and not in the privacy of your office. “This is a nice surprise.”

“I wanted to take you out for a quick birthday lunch. I know I rushed out this morning for my meeting and wanted to make up for it.”

“Aww—you’re so cute! I just need to leave this at my desk and grab my things.”

You lead him back to your office and as soon as you close the door, he catches you by your waist and plants a deep kiss on you. You pull back from him with a smile, while you bite your lower lip.

“Are we christening my new office now,” you joked.

“Careful–no matter how nice this building is, I know that these walls are still paper-thin…and you get pretty loud,” he says with that low, sexy voice while his hand gently squeezes your hip.

“Do I,” you asked, suddenly turned on by his touch.

“I mean–you’ve always been loud. Whether or not I’m in you,” he snickered.

“Wow–oh-kay!” You rolled your eyes while you walked away from him while he caught you again and kissed you on the nose, instantly trying to make you feel better and reminding you that he was only teasing–in case you made him suffer for that comment later on.

You rounded your desk to quickly add a note on your printout before you forgot about it.

“This looks much nicer than what you had before,” he remarked after taking a sweeping look at your new digs.

It’s been a few months since your promotion but moving into a new office space was slightly delayed due to your company moving to a newer, more modern building. Although your new office wasn’t a corner office like Yoongi’s, it was still on a perimeter location–which meant larger windows and more natural light.

“Eh, the old one wasn’t too bad. It’s seen some blood, sweat, and tears,” you mused, while grabbing another Post-It note to write down another reminder before sticking it to the edge of your screen.

Just then, your computer pings with an urgent email request.

“Sorry, Kook—just one more email and we can go.”

“Take your time, babe.”

You typed up a quick response while Jungkook walked around your office some more to look at all of the personal knick-knacks that you used to decorate it.

Catching his attention, he stops to pick up one of the frames that you had on your desk.

It was those three strips of photo booth prints that you previously had on a pin-board but you have now since framed them after realizing the significance that it held for you.

He laughed amusingly while looking at each photo. “I can’t believe you kept these.” He flips the frame around so you could see.

You hit ‘send’ on your email application and locked your computer before looking back at him.

“Of course! We had such a fun time then. It was our first big college campus event!”

“It was also the first time we met Jimin,” he said, flipping the frame back again to stare longingly at the photos.

You laughed at the memory. “I told you not to park in that lot. Thank god he saved us!”

He laughed just as much. “How was I supposed to know that there was a family of wild turkeys that lived there…and that they were not afraid of humans?”

“Oh my god—there were so many of them sitting on top of your car when we got back!” You shuddered at the memory of those creepy birds staring at you.

“If Chim hadn’t distracted them with food, they may have dragged us away into the bushes!”

You frowned sadly. “I know, I felt so bad after! He basically had to toss his whole bag of snacks that he spent all of his tickets on to get them to leave.”

He set the frame back down on your desk. “We bought him dinner afterwards, though.”

You sighed. “And we hadn’t stopped feeding him since,” you said while picking up your purse and getting up from your chair.

“True.”

“And now you’ll feed me,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck.

Just then, you hear a knock on your door. You slowly dropped your hands, reminding yourself that this was still a professional environment.

After you invite the person in, the door pushes open to reveal your boss, Yoongi.

“Yoongi-hyung!” Jungkook greeted him with a grin followed by a handshake.

“Jungkookie! How are you?”

“Ah, same old. Long time, no see. You?”

Jungkook and Yoongi have known of each other through your years of working together but never really had a single, proper conversation before.

It wasn’t until after you both got together, on one evening when Jungkook picked you up from work that they struck up a friendship. You were working late on a contract bid and Yoongi and a couple others were putting in some extra hours as well.

As they waited for you to save your documents in your office, they somehow bonded over something as random as Irish bombs. Since then, they have talked and even hung out without you a few times.

“Are you trying to steal my best employee away?”

“Just for an hour,” he grinned.

“Alright. Just have her back before I turn her into a pumpkin during our meeting.”

“Still grumpy as ever,” Jungkook joked.

“Keep that up and I’ll cut her lunch to half an hour,” he chided playfully.

Jungkook chuckled.

“I’ll have the report ready by then, Yoongi,” you said.

“Don’t stress, YN. It’s your birthday, so you have a valid excuse not to work hard today.”

He then turned his attention to your boyfriend.

“Call me when you get that imported Scottish whiskey, Jeon Jungkook. I want to compare it against my collection,” he said before he began backing out of your office.

“You’ll be my first call, hyungnim,” he said as Yoongi headed back to his office.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said as you began to walk out of your office.

You hold hands while you wait for the elevator to come up when he glances down at your shoes. They were nude, strappy sandals that laced up halfway to your calf, slightly sitting below the pencil skirt and loose, silk button-down top ensemble that you wore to work.

Eyeing them, he asked, “Are those new?”

Since he left for an early meeting this morning, it was the first time he was seeing you in today’s outfit.

“Nah, I’ve had them. Just rediscovered them in the back of my closet,” you said, taking a look at them and flicking your ankle upwards to show them off. “Why?”

“Hm.” He sounded dismissive as you both stepped into the elevator.

You gave him a slight frown. Not that it mattered much to you about what he thought of your fashion choices but he usually complimented you when something you wore was of note to him. “You don’t like them?”

He kept his eyes straight ahead as the doors shut.

“I do. And I think I’ll like them a lot better if you wore them while I held your ankles up to my shoulders later tonight.”

He then turned to you with a ghost of a smile on his lips while you gulped at the promise of hot birthday sex this evening.

“Just make sure you take your cold medicine, please?”

Not long after your birthday, you fell ill. You had caught a terrible cold and barred visitors from entering, including your boyfriend so you had to settle for video calls until you were a few days out, making sure that you were no longer contagious.

“Taking them as we speak,” you said while you turned the camera around showing him the bulky cold and flu capsules that you were about to swallow

Jungkook wanted so badly to come over and even promised to wear a face mask but you declined and told him you’d feel guiltier if he caught your cold. It’s been over a week since you last saw each other and he was missing you. You weren’t feverish any longer but were still slightly congested.

After taking your medicine, you trudged back to your bedroom.

“I’m going to try and get some sleep,” you said hoarsely as you switched your humidifier on.

“Okay, bub. Please call me if you need anything and I’ll drive over to drop it off at your door.”

“I will. And please tell the guys I said thank you for the food delivery.”

“You’re welcome, YN!” Jimin pushed his face into Jungkook’s camera, smiling and waving at you.

“Feel better,” Taehyung called over his shoulder while he was setting up a game on Jungkook’s TV screen.

You sniffled and blew your nose into a tissue. “Thanks, guys. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” the soulmates said in unison.

Jungkook addressed them off-camera. “She meant me!”

You giggled hoarsely, triggering a cough that you quickly stifled.

“I mean, sure—I guess I love you, too,” you smiled as you got under the covers.

“Hope you feel better, baby. Call me tomorrow. Love you!”

You pucker your lips at the camera mimicking a kiss. “Love you, too,” you said before hanging up.

“So is this how it’s going to be now,” Jimin asked.

“Like what,” Jungkook asked as he took a spot on his couch, grabbing a controller.

Jimin slumped on the couch. “You know…all lovey-dovey and shit…barely hanging out with your friends.”

Jungkook scoffed. “What could we possibly be doing right this second?”

“Don’t mind him,” Taehyung said, still flicking back and forth the game screen, deciding which course to play. “He’s only projecting because he’s nervous about meeting Mel’s parents next week.”

He whipped his head around, jaw dropped at his friend. He didn’t realize that things were getting that serious between him and his assistant.

Jimin blew out a raspberry. “Who’s nervous? I’m not nervous! I’m perfectly fine,” he said in a rush.

“Do you need some tips? Because–”

“Nope,” his friend said immediately.

Jungkook raised his hands in defeat while regarding his friend carefully. Jimin avoided making eye-contact and kept his attention on the screen so he shook his head and geared up for the game when Taehyung finally picked a course.

A few minutes into the first match, Jimin took a deep breath. “Should I bring anything? Mel said I didn’t need to but I feel like that’s code for something. Like, I must bring something. Dessert? Alcohol?”

Jungkook and Taehyung chuckled as Jimin bounced ideas off them for the rest of the night.

A few days later, after you got the all-clear from your general practitioner, you immediately planned a date night with Jungkook. You went out for a nice dinner then took things back to your place.

“That thing you had on earlier—I’ve never seen that before,” he asked after getting under the covers with you.

He was referring to the white, lace-mesh, cutout bodysuit that you recently bought and wore under your dress tonight—which he practically almost ripped off you.

You were both freshly showered after an intense three-orgasm session earlier this evening. He also gave you a fourth one while in the shower…thought he’d make up for lost time.

“Yeah, I ordered it last week and thought I’d debut it tonight,” you said slyly.

“God damn! How did I not blow my load early?”

You giggled. “So it’s a keeper?”

“Fuck, yes! Move it to the top of the drawer!”

You laughed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Speaking of drawers, I might have to do some laundry here tomorrow morning. I didn’t realize that I only kept a couple boxers here…not that I need them around you but if I were spending the night during the week or—“

“Maybe you should keep more of your stuff here,” you casually suggested.

He furrowed his eyebrows, caught off-guard with your last remark.

You both kept personal items at the other’s homes and didn’t really think anything of it. A toothbrush here, a lash curler there, a few shirts, and shoes. It’s been several months into your relationship and you realized that you hadn’t really discussed the topic.

“I mean…why don’t we keep all of our things in one place,” you suggested earnestly.

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you—“

“Asking you to move in? Yeah, I am. Do you think that’s a terrible idea,” you asked softly.

He smiled. “N-no. Is that something that you want?”

“Yeah. We spend so much time at each other’s homes. It just makes sense to…consolidate?”

“Consolidate,” he repeated. “Here?”

“I just thought that since you were on a month-by-month rental at your place while I’m paying a mortgage—“

“You mean we’re going to be paying the mortgage.”

You raised your eyebrows. “So you agree?”

He smiled, delighted by the thought. “Yeah. It’s the next logical step. I’m excited!”

“You are?”

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t need much else,” he said, giving you a kiss.

Jungkook’s mom busied herself in the kitchen after dinner, washing the dishes when you approached her asking if she needed help with anything.

It was a rare treat for her to invite anybody over for dinner at her house because she was always busy working, six days a week.

“Oh, no, honey. I’m perfectly fine here. You and Jungkook go rest.”

“Oh well, your son just fell asleep on the couch,” you smiled. “He had a long week.”

“Aish, that boy works himself silly sometimes.”

“I know. He works very hard. He just wants to always put his best foot forward,” you said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, he does. I think that is something that he picked up from me. But I tell him all the time that sometimes work isn’t all there is to life. I know that I had to work to give him a better future. There wasn’t much of a choice for me and I had to make some painful sacrifices–unfortunately, I lost some time with him,” she said as she longingly looked back into the living room and saw a glimpse of her son asleep on the couch.

“That must have been difficult,” you said empathetically.

You’ve witnessed Jungkook and his mom have arguments either during school or the handful of times that you stayed over at their house. When you were younger, he complained about her not having enough time for him or how she was short-tempered and in turn, making him act out at school or around you.

“It…it was,” she said somberly. “But over time, as he got older, he understood why I had to do what I did, eventually. He’s a smart man.”

You nodded in agreement.

“And…I can’t help but be forever grateful to you and your family for being there for him–most especially you.”

“Oh, auntie…all I did was keep him company,” you smiled sheepishly. “He loves you very much. He just–needed to be…constantly reminded of it.”

After setting the last plate on the dish rack, she dried her hands. She looked at you lovingly and embraced you. “I know that, YN…which is why I’m very grateful to you. All I want is for my son to be happy.”

She pulled away from you. “You know, I’m handing off my responsibilities at the shop more. Recently, I don’t feel the need to work as hard because seeing you together? I’m happy to see him settled. I can take more time for myself now because I don’t have to worry about him as much knowing that he’s in very good hands.”

She gave you a heartfelt smile.

“Eomma, don’t make YN cry.”

You looked up, wiping tears away from your cheek as Jungkook walked into the kitchen.

“I thought you were napping,” you said.

“Yeah but then I got hungry again,” he said, rubbing his belly.

His mom chuckled. “There’s some hotteok in the fridge, honey. I made them yesterday.”

He hummed in appreciation and asked if you wanted any. You nodded so he pulled a second plate out of the cupboard and checked if his mom had any ice cream in the freezer. He knew you’d take any dessert a la mode whenever you could.

“Is it true that you’re stepping back from the shop,” he asked while he scooped some ice cream onto your plate.

“Well, not completely. Kangho and I were planning–”

“Kangho?” He was suddenly unfamiliar with the name.

“Mr. Hwang,” she corrected.

“Yah! You’re on a first-name basis now,” he said, visibly annoyed.

“Jungkook-ah! We’ve been friends since you were a teenager and I’ll have you know that he’s a very nice man,” she explained.

“Isn’t he married?”

She scoffed. “He’s been a widower for three years–”

“Uhh—and he thinks that he can just waltz in here and pick up another wife,” he said, suddenly adorably agitated.

She put her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders at her grown son. “Well, excuse me if I am trying to find some joy for myself. I didn’t think that I needed my boy’s permission!”

“I need to have a talk with him–establish some rules or something.”

“You’re about a year too late, son,” she laughed as she walked out of the room.

Jungkook chased after his mom, continuing to pepper her with questions while you remained in the kitchen and listened to their spirited exchange, helping yourself to more ice cream and hotteok.

“Thanks for helping us revise the paperwork on the condo, hyung,” Jungkook says after he signs another document at Hobi’s office.

Since you decided to move in together, Jungkook asked if it was possible to add him as a co-signer to your home so you could officially and legally share the financial responsibility with the mortgage.

“It’s nothing. And this will be good for both of you in the long run if you decide to buy a bigger place eventually.”

Jungkook stops to look up at Hobi’s unchanged expression as he hands him another set of forms to sign.

“You know, so my future nieces or nephews have room to run around,” he added nonchalantly while he reviewed the previous set of documents that Jungkook just signed.

He continued to eye Hobi as he pretended to read the forms that he had already reviewed repeatedly.

Chuckling silently, he finally asked, “You think you can get us a place with a backyard?” It sounded like a dare.

Hobi looks at him and with a serious expression and responds, “Bro, you give me a call when you’re ready and I’ll find you a place with a back and front yard and still have money left over for renovations.”

Both men laughed heartily.

Turning serious, he asked, “So…how soon are you thinking?”

Jungkook gave him a knowing smile but not giving anything away. “Soon.”

Hobi exclaimed. “What? No hint?”

Jungkook just laughed him off.

*******

“It’s good that Jungkookie is moving into your place instead of the other way around. Last time, I needed to visit my acupuncturist because I think I pulled something,” Taehyung joked with you.

“No, that’s just because you’re old, Tae,” you spat back at him while you labeled Jungkook’s boxes.

Fine. You had way more stuff than Jungkook did but at the time, you were moving from a larger place into a slightly smaller space. To your credit, you got rid of many things in the last year.

While Jimin and Jungkook were loading up a small moving truck downstairs, you and Taehyung packed up the rest of his apartment, labeling and sealing boxes.

Jungkook had packed up most of his home office last night but he asked you to do a final sweep before sealing the boxes.

Armed with packaging tape, you sealed the first box that contained his action figures, which he painstakingly bubble-wrapped.

As you moved on to the next box on the floor that contained his diplomas and special awards, you paused before sealing it as an item sitting at the top of the pile caught your attention.

You remembered the day well. It was a windy, spring day—your allergies were in full force and whatever hair and makeup you did that morning was all for nothing, you thought.

You were being a good friend, you repeated within yourself—even though this was only an elective, he seemed to be really into it so you wanted him to get a good grade to meet his scholarship minimum average.

“Could we try the beauty shot now, maybe?”

You cringed at the timing. He wanted you to feel relaxed first and take some farther shots before moving into the extreme close-ups.

“Can I just blow my nose really quickly and try to salvage my makeup?” Your mascara—however little you put on—was running because of your allergies.

You had finally moved indoors after he took the first few ‘natural light’ and exterior shots.

While trying to schedule this photoshoot, he promised he would work around your schedule. You had a final that day so he agreed to meet you at your off-campus apartment because you had a two-hour window.

While in the bathroom, you got a glimpse of what a mess all of the sneezing and sniffling has made. You dreaded what the first photos looked like.

Having had enough, you decided to wipe all of your makeup off and wash your face. After applying some moisturizer and giving your hair a quick brush, you walked out seeing Jungkook reviewing the shots that he took earlier.

“They don’t look too bad,” he says while he scrolled through the digital camera’s display screen. “I can always adjust the lighting on some of these.”

He looks up while you stand barefaced by the window.

“What happened to your makeup?”

“I couldn’t take it anymore. It was really irritating my eyes,” you said. “Guess it’s going to be a non-beauty beauty shot,” you said apologetically.

He smiled warmly. “Nobody said that makeup was required. I think you look pretty with or without it,” he said simply.

You smiled back at your friend’s vote of confidence. “Okay. Where do you want me?”

“Uh—here’s fine, I think. The lighting is good,” he said, referring to the reading nook by your window.

“Just sit as comfortably as you can,” he requested.

You thought that the photos wouldn’t come out nice because before washing your face, your eyes were puffy and red from the allergens.

Looking back at this photo, you realized that Jungkook brought out the best in you even when you thought the worst of yourself.

“Hey,” he says, breaking your reverie and pulling you back into the present.

He stood behind you while you held and stared at your old photo.

“When did you get this?” You remember that the last time you saw this photo was in your bedroom back at the old house that you shared with Derek.

“Does it matter when and how I got it?”

“No but—I just didn’t know you had this.”

“Just think of it as an artist reclaiming his masterpiece,” he said with a faint smile before kissing you on the cheek and picking up one of the boxes that you had sealed and labeled.

“Kook, where are you taking me?”

“Patience, baby…”

“We’re going to be late to dinner–”

“Shush! Can you just let me surprise you every now and then?”

Jungkook asked you to cover your eyes and keep them closed as soon as you left your place.

“You’ve surprised me enough during the course of this relationship. And not to mention it’s your birthday so I don’t know why I’m getting the surprise.”

“Just think of it as a gift—for me!”

You groan. “Okay, okay. I just don’t want our family waiting for us. You know I hate being late.”

“This won’t take long. Watch out, baby–there’s a couple small steps coming up—there you go…and a couple more here–”

“Do not let me fall in these heels, I swear to god–”

He chuckles. “I promise, I’m not.”

He sounded very excited about this and you were just itching to open your eyes. You hated surprises but you let your boyfriend do it anyway. So far, you haven’t kicked him to the curb for it.

“Okay–ready?”

“Yes! I’ve been ready,” you answer impatiently.

“Alright, open your eyes,” he says.

As soon as your eyes adjust to the light, you smile excitedly as soon as you get a good look at where you were at.

“Is this–”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You giggled as you looked around this familiar place. Suddenly, a slight panic set in. “Are we trespassing?”

He laughed. “No. I talked to someone beforehand. We’re good.”

You walked closer to the play structure–most of it had been remodeled but the double-slide was still there–albeit with a new paint job. Tan bark and soft cork cushioning had replaced the old dirt and concrete surface–it made for a softer landing.

The little hiding spot behind the slides was still there but they’ve since added an enclosure that included a sensory wall.

“I’m not even going to ask how you managed this.”

“I told you, I have my ways,” he said enigmatically. “Wanna sit?”

You took a seat at the end of the slide while Jungkook sat on the other, next to you.

“Oh man. We’ve come a long way since our time here, huh,” you said nostalgically.

“We have. Who would have thought that some scrappy, moody, boy would ever fall in love with a sassy, loudmouth, bowl-cut and pigtail-wearing girl?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Loudmouth, huh? You’re definitely not getting any tonight!”

He chuckled loudly. “I forgot to mention ‘beautiful’,” he corrected, while pinching your cheek.

After a few moments of silence, he asked, “We’ve had a great year, right?”

“We have,” you affirmed with a smile.

“What do you think next year will be like,” he wondered.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I mean…I don’t know,” you said vaguely. “We’ll just take it one day, one step at a time and find out, I guess,” you said, looking down on the ground.

He sighed. “Hmm…I don’t feel like guessing, though.”

You raised your head slowly, curious as to what he meant by that.

“I want to take the next step.”

You watched him as he slowly stood up from where he sat and moved in front of you to get down on one knee.

You gasp audibly and your hands fly to your mouth in surprise.

“YN, baby… I’m not going to say what I already tell you everyday…how much I love you and how happy you make me. Instead, I’m going to ask—will you please make me even happier than I already am–and marry me?”

Trembling with tear-soaked eyes, you leaned closer to him, smiled broadly, and resoundingly responded, “Yes!”

You cup his face, pulled him close to you and kissed him repeatedly. While he grinned through your kisses, he slipped the ring onto your finger.

Suddenly he yells out, “You all heard it loud and clear! She said ‘yes’!”

You gasp once more as your family comes out from the dark classroom cheering, clapping, and exchanging hugs between you and Jungkook.

After Hobi hugs and congratulates you, he takes a few candid photos of you and your family—including your ring…a 3-carat, round-cut solitaire set on a platinum band accented with small channel diamonds covering it three-quarters of the way through. Simple, classic with a little flair…but most of all, enduring.

*******

“How are we today, YN?”

“I’m doing really well,” you beamed at her and practically bounced off the couch.

“Wow! I can really hear and feel that from you,” the doctor says as she prepares to jot down notes from this session and casually noted the new hardware that you sported on your left ring finger.

It’s been many months since your last session and things have dramatically changed since then.

Although mostly irrelevant to your current status and what you were feeling at this moment, you quickly recapped events that transpired with Derek, your brief fallout with Jungkook that eventually led to both of you getting together and being in a committed relationship.

You discussed how easy everything was with him—almost second-nature. Like any couple, you bickered and had the occasional argument. You talked it out when you could and gave each other space when you couldn’t resolve it the same night.

But none of those instances felt like the end of the world just as you had initially feared. You always found your way back to each other because you had laid the best foundation before you even began building your relationship.

The good doctor listened, asked some follow-up questions but didn’t judge. It was why you were so receptive to her course of treatment. She was approachable yet constructive when you expressed apprehension or questioned your behavior or decisions.

She was supportive of steps that you took but not in a lenient way. She didn’t admonish you but she didn’t patronize you either. It was an approach that you found extremely helpful in steering you in the right direction towards healing yourself.

“Over a year ago, I never thought that I would ever get to this place in my life. It just seemed really bleak. But now that I’m actually here, I find that I don’t have the compulsion to look over my shoulder…at least not as often,” you chuckled lightly.

“I’m enjoying my current relationships as they are now and just…really hopeful for what the future holds,” you said, full of sincerity.

“That’s really good to know, YN. You did a lot of that work yourself and it’s paying off.”

“You’re giving me too much credit, doc. You clearly helped me out a lot, too.”

“Alright, now you’re giving me too much credit. I just help steer people in the right direction,” she said candidly.

“Well, either way, thank you. I feel like that trauma will never go away though. I think I’m just marked for life with that. But I’m happy to be with somebody who is patient enough to help me get through it. He doesn’t…‘deal with it’ like it was a chore but he accepts it instead because it’s a part of who I am now.

It’s like—a piece of pottery. Some are molded perfectly while others look a bit wonky–especially when the potter is a beginner and has no clue what they’re doing. But it’s what gives it its personality…makes it unique. Luckily, others choose to see the beauty in that.”

One year later…

It was the night before your wedding and here you were, sneaking into your soon-to-be husband’s bedroom. You planned and agreed to sleep in separate rooms beforehand—trying to keep with old traditions.

But you missed having him close to you while you slept.

You found him sitting up on the bed, leaning against the headboard with the TV on while scrolling through his phone.

“What are you doing,” he whispered and chuckled at the same time while you pad through the door.

“I was cold,” you said simply, while you slid under the covers with him, wearing not much else except an oversized shirt and your underwear.

“Did you go through my stuff again,” he asked, noticing that the shirt you wore belonged to him.

“After tomorrow, what’s yours is mine,” you giggled.

He laughed while he pulled you in closer and kissed you.

It was a peck but it suddenly dawned on you that all of the pre-wedding festivities have deprived you both of some legitimate alone-time.

The desire between you smoldered and in an instant, every nerve ending in your body begged to be touched.

You reached up and pulled his neck lower towards you to kiss him again…deeper and hungrier this time.

Anticipation coiling tightly within you but he momentarily pulls away, leaving you bereft.

“Baby, Chim and Tae are sleeping in the other room—“

You agreed that you would all switch rooms after the ceremony. You chose to take the double-room while the boys took the honeymoon suite.

“I can be quiet, I promise,” you giggled while reaching down at his boxers.

He moaned softly. “I know but—I left my condoms out in the main room, where they’re sleeping.”

“What if…we went without it…beginning tonight?”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been on birth control this whole time anyway and we haven’t slipped up.”

Sure, the thought of having unprotected sex was daunting because in the past, you were always afraid of uncertainty. Who isn’t? But something about this moment in time, at this point in your lives, your current mindset…it didn’t feel impulsive or hasty. Being with him–there was a definiteness to it…and it felt right.

“I know but…are you comfortable? You know I’d never pressure you.”

“And I know that. I am comfortable, if you are. You’re it for me and tomorrow—I am all yours,” you said as you nipped on his lower lip, “For life, Jeon Jungkook!”

He smiled at the thought of you exchanging vows tomorrow.

“Okay. I mean—don’t get me wrong. I’ve fantasized about this for god knows how long but I just don’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable doing.”

“I do want this. And…I trust you, fully.”

He nodded and kissed you once more. He reached down between your legs, shifting your underwear’s material so his fingers could delve right into your folds.

You shifted to give him better access while your hand stroked him from root to tip under his boxers.

His fingers pumped in and out of you mercilessly as your first orgasm took you by surprise. With a whimper, he slowly withdrew his fingers from you and put them to his lips to lick them clean.

“Not fair. Now I need to taste you,” you said as you quickly slid under the covers and pulled his cock out.

He tried to stop you but you were too slick for him. The next thing he knew, he was rolling his head back in pure ecstasy while you took him in your warm mouth.

He let out a hiss while he tangled his fingers around your hair. His hand guided your head as it bobbed up and down his length.

He praised you while you worked him. “God, your mouth feels so good, babe.”

You hollow your cheeks and took him in deeper, his head hitting the back of your throat.

He sucked in a breath, feeling himself teetering over the edge until his strong arms gently held you back. You took it as your queue that he didn’t want to cum in your mouth that time. Although in the past, he had either been too lost in the pleasure or you were too eager and hungry for him to stop you. More often than not he preferred to reach his climax while in you.

You slipped your panties off before climbing on top of him. He then strips you off your shirt and is welcomed with your bare breasts.

His thumbs grazed both nipples before he sank his mouth on one to suckle on it.

You threw your head back and mewled as you dug your fingers into your fiancés scalp.

He shifts slightly underneath you to line himself up at your entrance. While you went down on him, you took your time getting him nice and wet for you.

“Ready?”

“Always…for you.” You kissed him deeply once more as he guided your hips down towards him.

“Fuck,” you both uttered in unison as you felt each other raw for the first time.

You took him to the hilt and waited a few seconds for your muscles to adjust. While your muscles settle, he peppers your neck and your collarbone with soft kisses.

After a beat, you start to roll your hips towards him. He meets your subsequent thrusts with his own, slow grinding.

You started to lean backwards on one arm while the other clung on his shoulder for support. His hands gripped the fullest parts of your ass while he pushed himself deeper into you.

You bit your lips to stifle your moans. He smirked knowing that this position always drove you crazy and that you couldn’t scream it out loud unless you wanted your friends to wake up to this.

As if throwing more gas into the flame, he moves his right hand down to your folds and starts circling his thumb on your clit.

“Hate you,” you mouthed before your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you lolled in pleasure.

“No you don’t.” He bit back a smile, catching his lower lip with his teeth as he continued to tease you.

You whimpered softly at the feel of him hitting you deep into your core as he alternated between his thumb and palm to tirelessly goad you to the brink of ecstasy.

“You’re getting so tight…are you close, baby?”

He already knew the answer to that but you still nodded anxiously as your walls closed in around his cock in a vice-like grip.

“Hoooly shit,” he dragged out as his own orgasm crept up.

You pulled yourself back up towards him, flushed against his chest while he continued to thrust in and out of you.

“You want me to pull out?”

“No, keep going…Ah…I’m cum—“ Your jaw goes slack and your first instinct was to sink your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your groans as your second orgasm took over you.

Soon after, his hips stutter followed by a ragged sound that escaped his lips as he emptied himself into you. You felt each spurt of his pleasure inside you, adding to your own.

As you pulled away to get a brief look at him. He looked so adorable in his sweaty, fucked out state.

He smiled and tilted his chin up to plant a kiss on your lips.

“I can’t wait to marry you, YN.”

“I love you,” you grinned at him.

“I love you, too,” he said as he nuzzled the tip of your nose.

*****

Jeon Jungkook is standing in front of a mirror, smoothing his lapels. He hated black-tie events, which was why instead of a tuxedo, he opted for a crisp, ornate, white linen shirt and equally lightweight beige trousers. It was your wedding day.

“Alright, JK—you’re about to get lei’d!”

He snorted as Jimin presented him with an orchid and tuberose garland.

Most people get wedding jitters. Doesn’t matter how sure they are of their relationship. There’s always that tiny feeling–whether it was something that you might have forgotten off the checklist, some relative that you dreaded might embarrass themselves in front of guests, or whether the flowers were going to get delivered on time.

But today? You had a feeling of calm and serenity as soon as you woke up this morning. After sneaking out of Jungkook’s room and back into yours hours ago, you had a dreamless sleep.

For the ceremony, you decided to wear your hair down, styled with soft, cascading curls.

Your mom gives your hair soft brush strokes in the back while you finish sticking a wispy lash strip into your right eye.

Jungkook’s mom walks in with a couple of special deliveries.

“Honey, the florist came by to drop these off for you. I just came back from the boys’ room and handed off Jungkook’s lei,” she said with a smile.

Your mom utters her thanks to Jungkook’s mom as she takes the boxes containing the Ti-leaf and tuberose maile-style lei and the matching flower crown to get them ready for you.

“And this is from my son—he asked me to give this to you.”

You took the small envelope that she presented to you. It contained a notecard with Jungkook’s handwriting. In it, it said:

YN,

I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle and make a promise in front of everyone who matters to us, that I will love you forever.

Your Jungkook

Your heart soared filled with joy and wished that you didn’t have to wait much longer to marry this man.

You chose to have your wedding at dusk. This was the time of day when the colors of the horizon were prettiest and most romantic—a gradation of day blending into night.

When the time came, Hobi and the other ushers rounded up the wedding guests to take their seats.

The resort set up a tent not too far from the ceremony site since there wasn’t a lot of covering in the surrounding area. It had a couple of chairs and a mirror for any last minute touches. They also set up a makeshift wall to cover part of the path to keep the suspense. It stopped right at the beginning of the aisle.

Your dad enters the tent as you take a final look at yourself in the mirror. Your dress was a boho-inspired, A-line silhouette, V-neckline with bell-shaped flutter sleeves and an open back. It had a lace bodice and a light, flowy skirt with lace appliques. It was sweet with a hint of sexy, noting that Jungkook had a penchant for dresses with an open back–especially when you wore them.

You opted to go without a veil this time. You didn’t need to hide your face…or anything else any longer and neither did Jungkook. There were no false pretenses between you two.

“You look wonderful, sweetpea,” your dad remarked.

“Thank you, appa” you said with a soft smile.

Just then, you hear the wedding singer begin to play the first few notes of her song on the acoustic guitar. A few seconds later, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook take their places up front.

Something in your eyes Makes me wanna lose myself Makes me wanna lose myself In your arms There's something in your voice Makes my heart beat fast Hope this feeling lasts The rest of my life

As you stood behind the end of the makeshift wall, you caught a glimpse of the usher giving you the signal that it was your turn to walk.

If you knew how I wanted someone to come along And change my life the way you've done

“Ready, baby girl?”

You glance at your dad and give him a big smile. “Yes, appa.”

You wrap your hand around his elbow and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you step out from behind the covering and onto the sand.

Everyone stands up and turns to get a look at you while you and your dad begin to walk down.

You nodded and greeted your guests. You spotted Lisa with Namjoon in the back row and Yoongi sat a couple of rows up next to his partner. Melanie sat not too far away along with Jungkook’s A-team surrounded by your cousins, aunts, and uncles.

After taking a few more steps, you looked up ahead and saw the love of your life. You caught him subtly pinching his earlobe and his eyes were downcast but as if hearing you silently call to him, he looked up and met your eyes.

His smile came slowly but when it settled on his lips, it was as bright as the light reflecting off the ocean right behind him.

Feels like home to me Feels like home to me Feels like I'm all the way back where I come from

You didn’t worry about anything else…because the only thing that mattered was the person waiting for you at the end of that aisle. And he looked at you in the way that you always hoped–with love.

If you knew how happy you are making me I've never thought that I'd love anyone so much

Jungkook greets your dad with a big hug. You give him one last kiss on the cheek before he hands you off to him.

When you first came here together, you watched the sunrise. At sunset, you would be husband and wife.

After your mom takes your bouquet, you and Jungkook stood face to face, hand in hand.

Feels like I'm all the way back where I belong

Jimin and Taehyung move to take their positions in front of you.

“Friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of our dear friends, Jungkook and YN,” Jimin began.

“It’s been a long journey for these two but to everyone’s collective relief, they arrived eventually,” Taehyung added.

The soulmates proceeded to share anecdotes of you–beginning from when you first met up until you both finally took that leap of faith. They garnered laughs, smiles, and even tears from your guests.

You did your best to keep your composure as you recited your vows to him but lost it when he repeated his vows to you. His voice was firm and full of certainty. The look in his eyes had the affirmation that he had spoken of and shown you throughout the course of your relationship.

You loved him so much.

After exchanging rings, you exchanged leis to symbolize your union. One by one, you also presented leis to each of your family members–Jungkook putting them around your grandparents, your parents, and Hobi, while you put one around his mom’s neck. To finish off, you put one around Jimin and he put one around Taehyung, further sealing your families together.

“And now, by the power vested in us by the internet–” Taehyung says.

“We now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jimin finished.

“You may now kiss the bride!” They both proclaimed.

He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you sweetly. Your lips parted and clung to each other, filled with so much love and happiness from today.

The entire ceremony was intimate and deeply personal. It was perfect.

*******

You and Jungkook both sat on the sand watching the ocean waves wash ashore. You were slotted between his legs while you leaned into his chest.

You sat in silence for a while—exchanging a few kisses but mostly wordlessly taking in the events that had just taken place hours ago.

“Should we go back in?” He mumbled while he kissed your temple.

You sighed. “Just a few more minutes.”

You can hear the music from your reception echoing. There was a distant sound of chanting–most likely Hobi and the soulmates doing a dance-off.

“What are you thinking,” he asked, while he kept his nose nuzzled into your hair.

“Absolutely nothing,” you said, matter-of-factly.

Your response took him aback. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope,” you said simply.

You looked up at him seeing that he felt a little disappointed that you didn’t have any thoughts about the whole day.

You pinched his chin and giggled. “Trust me, it’s a good thing…because it means that I’m absolutely content with everything right now.”

His gaze slid over your face until a boyish smile crept up in his lips.

You gave him a kiss. “I love you, my husband.”

“I love you, my YN.”

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layniapetrovnaaa · 4 years

Text

Kinkmas Day 6 (cockwarming): Five Hargreeves

Five is physically aged up to 17/18 in all my works. Also, I am 18, so this is not like some creepy cougar situation.

Summary: Reader and five go to see their past selves with Luther at the pub. Trouble ensues, and you decide to then try and help Five relax.

Warnings: Language, suggestive banter, name calling, fighting, smut, cockwarming, light praise kink, hints of premature ejaculation.

This is pretty long because it was not originally a kinkmas fic.

***

A cold layer of sweat covers your entire body as you make your way to the pub that your past self was currently occupying.

You knew the dangers of paradox psychosis-- having been part of the commission for many years. Yet, here you were, about to try and negotiate with your two weeks younger self and significant other.

It wasn't you that you were worried about, however, it was Five.

You had been partners for quite a few years before you got together, that being said, you knew Five very well. You knew it would be unlikely that he would react kindly to himself

If the first four stages of paradox psychosis were any indication, he was already fumbling this task.

“You alright, Five?”

“Fine.” he says sharply, but in an unconvincing tone.

“Here we go.” Luther mutters as he swings open the door, holding it for you and your counterpart.

Upon entering, you catch a glimpse of you and Five at the bar, you turn and laugh at something he says, flirtatiously placing your hand on his arm.

What you would give to go back to those days, the ones where you weren't constantly worrying about the apocalypse, when you and Five could have a casual drink at the bar, then find each other in one of the empty bathrooms later to... blow off some steam before returning to your jobs as hitmen.

“Well, there we are.” you breath out.

Five’s eyes almost bug out of his head as he peers around to get a good look at the two of you together, Luther as well.

Despite the fact that you were also just as susceptible to paradox psychosis, you seemed to be the most level headed.

“How come [Y/N] looks the same?” Luther asks, stupidly.

“I told you already, I don’t age due to my regenerative healing factor, I’m like you guys.” your growl.

Maybe you weren't the most level headed, blame it on nerves.

“Huh”

He glances over at Five, who was anxiously rubbing his hands together and looking as if he just saw a ghost, before asking another stupid question.

“Why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?”

You scoff, and Five answers him, almost hurt by his words.

“Luther, I would never let that happen. We’re trained to guard these briefcases with our lives.”

“Right.”

“Plus, it’s the inherit paradox where this gets tricky.We’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with our former selves.”

“Huh-- What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes.

“C’mon Ape-man, try to keep up.” you scoff out, biting your thumb nail anxiously.

“If the old me doesn't travel back to 2019 like he’s supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. I cease to exist. Same goes for [Y/N], here.” Five explains to his brother, making exaggerated hand gestures as he does.

Luther nods, and Five keeps talking.

“So our best chance is to talk--reason-- with them. Usually, I would count on [Y/N] to keep me grounded in situations like this, but given that fact that she might experience psychosis as well, I’m not really sure how this is gunna go.”

“Ah” Luther lets out, a bit apprehensive.

“He’ll understand.” Five mutters to himself, itching his neck.

“You just itched your neck! That’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” Luther whisper shouts.

“Luther, don’t be ridiculous.” you speak, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you do so.

“No, I didn't. I didn't itch my neck.” Five says defensively.

“Well, denial is stage one, and you’ve both got it. “

“We are fine, Luther.” You say harshly and leaning in dramatically.

Five huffs and shakes himself out a bit before he starts towards your targets.

“Wait-” Luther says, grabbing his arm.

“What?” Five hisses out, still put off by his brother’s most recent comments.

“Maybe I should go first. I mean, the two of you will freak them out.”he explains before turning to your lover.

“Bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? He will lose his shit.”

You all turn to look at yourselves-- the couple-- at the bar.

“Just let me brake the ice.” he continues.

Five looks over at you for approval and you give him a nod. This seemed to be the first time Luther actually had a decent plan.

As you prepare to meet yourself, the three of you take a few deep breaths in.

As Luther saunters over to the couple , you put a hand on Five’s back, rubbing soothing across his lean frame.

“This will all work out fine.” you hum, more to yourself than him.

He looks up at the ceiling, then back down at his hands, continuing to fiddle with any of the imperfections on them.

“Whaddya say, after this we’ll go home, finally have some alone time, release all that pent up stress?”

He looks into you eyes, and for a moment, his anxiety stops.

“That would be wonderful.” he pecks your lips quick before you turn around the corner of beam, hearing Luther introduce you.

“Hey there, stranger.”

***

“Well...this is nice, isn’t it? The five of us, together like this.”

You put your head in your hands as your lookalike glares over at Luther because of his unfitting tone and comment. The Fives are the only ones who respond verbally.

“No.”

The physically older five speaks.

“Somebody explain to me how I am having a pint of Guinness with my younger self and my girl.”

“Older, actually. I’m you, just 14 days older.” Five clicks.

“I have pubic hair smarter than you.”

And that was your cue to start and finish off your drink in one go.

“How is that possible?” the only other female at the table asks.

“I can explain. You see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you two will brake your contract with the commission.” he says, his eyes flicking over to the other version of yourself, and you noticed his eyes soften slightly.

“I already know you’re thinking about it. All those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. Well, today, you are going to do something about it. Today, you are going to attempt to time travel forward to 2019. However you are going to screw up the jump and end up in this twip of a body, trapped forever, small, pubescent.” Five says, starting off soft at first, then becoming more vicious.

“Okay.” the other Five says nervously.

“How come I look the same then?” You-- well, not you-- speak.

“Because we don’t age, moron.”

Younger you sits back and scoffs, never breaking her glare.

“See! It’s a reasonable question!” Luther shouts rather obnoxiously.

“Ah yes, the burden of being young and sexy forever.” the white haired Five speaks, it’s meant to be humorous, but everyone is to stressed to acknowledge it properly.

Luther chokes slightly on his beer, whereas the Five that you are sat next to reaches for his and gulps it down rather quickly. You just roll your eyes.

“Look, we’re getting off topic.”

Regaining his wits, the man that sits across from you speaks.

“Even if I was to believe you, what am I supposed to do about it, not jump?” he says aggressively, with a hint of fear.

“No, no. I--We need you both to jump.”

“If you two don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you elaborate on his behalf.

“What I need from you is to jump correctly.”

“I’m listening.”

“The first time through, we got the calculations wrong. That’s how I ended up in this body. But now, I know the correct calculation.”

“What is it?” the other Five whispers sharply.

“I’ll be glad to tell you... in exchange for that briefcase you’re holding under the table.” the physically younger Five states, a bit too cockily.

“What do you think?”

It’s silent for a moment, and in that moment you hold your breath.

“I think...I need to piss.”

You let out a sigh and hold your head in your hands as he gets up and heads towards the back of the pub, Luther following shortly after.

“You’ll have to excuse me as well.” [Y/N] says and gets up. You recognize the slight mischievous gleam in her-- your-- eyes when she gets up and heads towards the bathrooms. Your suspicions are confirmed when you see her slip into the men’s bathroom instead of the women's.

You quickly turn to Five, who is bouncing his leg up and down anxiously and not looking away from the bathroom doors.

“They’re planning something, and they’re trying to get Luther in on it.”

He shakes his head before speaking.

“I know. I bet they’re gunna kill us.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” you say, a bit shocked at his accusation.

“Homicidal rage is stage seven, [Y/N], and all four of us are already exhibiting symptoms of stage six. Besides, that’s what I would do if I were him, and I am him.” he says very matter-of-factly, which makes you gulp, given the fact this he isn’t wrong.

A minute later, the three of them appear.

“We good?” Five asks cautiously.

“You got a deal.” The other Five speaks.

“We gotta hurry, Kennedy’s en route. Less than an hour till showtime.” the other version of yourself says, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

“Why are you so anxious to get going all of a sudden?”

“Relax. Your getting paranoid.” The mustache donning Five lets out a scoffing chuckle, itching his chin on his shoulder immediate after.

“Oh, am I?”

They glare at each other for another moment before exiting the pub.

***

“What are you looking at?” Five asks the random stranger aggressively.

You try to push him along, but he continues.

“You see somethin’ funny?” he shouts even louder.

You notice that the other three members of your party are talking among themselves in front of you. Trying to focus hard on what they are saying, you miss Fives next insult, which was along the lines of “Something, something, asshole!”.

“Mind your business!-”

“Five!” you scold. “-Or I’ll give you something to stare at!”

“Stop it!”

“You wish you could pull off these shorts!”

You just roll your eyes and try to move him along.

Luther falls back and you immediately know something is up.

“Hey, lovebirds. How you guys doing?”

Five takes a look at Luther, then a deep breath in before descending the stairs and speaking.

“They’re gunna kill us, aren’t they?”

“What?” Luther lets out a nervous chuckle.

“What, him, her? He’s gunna kill you? Yeah, right. That’s ridiculous.” he chuckles again.

“Luther?”

“Yeah, hm?” he perks up too quickly when you speak.

“Promise me you will never go into acting. Because you’ve got to be one of the worst liars I’ve ever met.” and Five hums in agreement.

“You’re a worse liar than you are a spotter.”

At that, Luther drops his act.

“Okay, who’s fault is that? What good is having a spotter if you won’t even listen to him?”

“So you admit you’re all conspiring against us?” Five says, whisper yelling. You scoff.

“Do--Do you admit that you’re suffering from paradox psychosis?”

“Nuh-uh, don’t try and turn the tables, Luther.” you seethe.

“She’s got it too!” he points at you.

Five ignoring the both of you and instead defends himself.

“All I’m suffering from is bracing clarity about you and your murderous intentions.” his voice is like venom as he itches his chest.

“Look, it’s not like they’re gonna “kill you” kill you. They just want to kill a, um... version of you two.

“But I am that version of me!”

“Hey, I don’t love it, either, but he’s actually got a pretty good plan.

“You’re really not helping your case, Luther.” you say, your voice agitated.

“What? The one where you guys off us, then jump to 2019 to save the world?” Five asks, aggressively pushing his hair back.

“Yeah, wait, how’d you know that.”

“Because, Luther, we are the same people, we think the same way, and that’s exactly what we would do!” you spit, muttering “imbecile” under your breath.

“Okay, all I know is that we’ve got one of you too many,-- and you’re the mean one and this Five is a maniac.”

You clench your fists and try not to hurl yourself at the monkey-boy.

“Maniac? Luther, you have seen nothing. If you want a maniac, I will show you maniac.” Five growls. Maybe Luther was right.

“Okay, as your spotter,-” you and Five both scoff.

“I think the best thing I can do for you right now is put you out of your misery.” Luther says in a matter-of-fact tone, and that’s when Five’s had enough.

“Okay, Luther, listen,” Five starts, turning and grabbing Luther. You make sure to watch the show from a safe two feet away.

“I know your feeble mind only responds to age and authority, so listen very closely.” Five starts, and you got a feeling from the way that he was gripping Luther’s arms-- this would most likely end in an outburst.

“Yet again, you are experiencing daddy issues. This time with your own brother, which is honestly making me a bit crazy.”

“But remember this:” he says, and its the calm before the storm.

“I’m 14 days older than him. I have seniority here. So it is me you should be listening to, Luther.”

...and here it comes...

“I’M THE DADDY HERE!”

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner.

“Five, you need to calm down.” you finally intervene.

“What, I thought you liked it when I play daddy.” he says with a veil of smugness, coating his paranoid ticks.

Before you can huff out a retort, the Five that was walking in front of you alerts everyone that you all had reached your destination.

And, to say the least, things didn’t exactly go according to plan. At least you survived!

***

When you arrived home you knew your tasks were not yet finished.

Ah, yes, the trials and tribulations of trying to help Five relax after stopping an apocalypse...twice.

Five heads straight to the kitchen, ignoring his siblings, to get a cup of coffee.

You and Luther filter in behind him slowly, exhausted from the day you’d had.

Five hands you your own cup of joe and you place a hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze, and offering him a sweet little smile-- as if to say “thank you”. He returns the look before taking a sip from his mug.

“Where the hell have you three been?” Allison asks, her voice sharp, but at the same time, caring and concerned.

“Doesn’t matter.” Five says bluntly before walking away, pulling you with him into Elliott’s old bedroom.

Allison just scoffs and shakes her head, walking away, Luther following quickly after her.

You set your mug down on the desk as Five closes the door.

He goes and sits at the desk immediately, muttering about how you all still had to find a way to get back to 2019.

“Five.” you say, your tone that of a parent who is correcting their child.

He looks up at you cautiously before determining that he wasn't in too much danger, continuing his scribbles.

“[Y/N] you know just as well as I do, we can’t stay here.”

“I’m not asking to stay, I’m asking you to take a break for 30 minutes and-” you walk over to him, standing behind his chair, starting to trail kisses up his neck, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. “spend some time with me. Hmm?”

“I--” he stutters, trying to weigh his options as your hands start to massage his shoulders lightly.

“I need to finish this equation I just started.”

You huff and make your way around the chair to sit on his lap. His hands immediate rest on your hips. And, although he has and exasperated look on his face, you can tell he is enjoying this.

“But, I want you.” you whisper, your breath ghosting over his lips.

You grind yourself down on him unexpectedly, which makes him release a loud, and slightly high pitched moan.

You grin like the cheshire cat.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Mmm, but how can I not be when I make the great Five Hargreeves moan like a horny schoolboy.” you mock, your eyes trailing down his sweater vest covered torso.

“Oh, shut up.” he says just before kissing you feverishly.

Soon, he is lifting your shirt, throwing it across the room, and groping your breasts.

You let out a content sigh at his actions, continuing to swish your hips back and forth.

“You’re so beautiful” he mutters and he leans in to kiss your neck.

You let out delicate moans as he sucks a hickey over your right jugular.

“I love those pretty noises you make, sweetheart.” He says, and you hum.

“Five,” you plead. “I need you.”

“Fuck” he curses at your words.

You get up to quickly take your bottoms off. he lifts his hips, sliding his shorts down to about mid-thigh.

You get back on his lap and start stroking him a bit before eventually lining him up at your entrance, and sinking down, letting out a heavy breath.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” Five sighs.

“You always feel so damn good.” he hums, and you let out a soft moan at his words.

“Just-just let me finish this one problem and I’ll fuck you properly, okay?”

“Okay.” you sigh, sultry.

“Good girl.” he says, looking at you admirably, running a knuckle down your cheek softly, giving it a quick peck.

Any small thing, any move of his hips, made you let out small gasps and breaths.

It seems like forever before he is finished, but when you hear the sound of his pencil on the desk, you know he is finally finished. Ready to ravage you.

You start to move up and down slowly, trying to enjoy your first real moment of peace with your other half in a a long time.

Unable to take the slowness any longer, he orders you to get into the bed.

You comply and lay down.

He stands at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, dragging you closer to him before he lines himself up at your entrance again.

His hands rest on the undersides of your knees, pushing them forward so that they are near your shoulders

“You look so beautiful like this” he murmurs, taking in your appearance.

Despite occupying a body that he hadn't possessed in a long time, he still knew exactly what to do to make you a blubbering mess. However, that being said, this version of himself seemed to be...sensitive to more sexual things. Reaching his climax quicker than he intended, he lets out a string of curses.

He seems slightly embarrassed, but makes no note of it when he tucks himself back into his shorts and gets on his knees.

You let out a moan when he finally puts his mouth on you, a cocky grin forming on his lips.

“Who’s the cocky one now?” you ask rhetorically, breathless, and he dives back in. Your hands thread through his soft and thick hair, tugging on it ever so slightly when you feel a particularly pleasureful jolt.

And its not long before you reach your glorious climax as well.

“HEY, GUYS? WHEN YOU TWO ARE DONE BONING YOU MIGHT WANT TO COME DOWN HERE AND SEE THE NEWS.” Diego shouts, and you blush, knowing that everyone now knew what you and Five were up to-- that is, if they didn’t already.

“We should probably go down there.” Five says, helping you to get up and giving you back your shirt.

You agree and go downstairs, only to find that you and the Hargreeves siblings were currently America’s most wanted.

#five Hargreeves x reader #Five Hargreeves #five Hargreeves smut #five is always aged up in all my fics #the umbrella academy #kinkmas

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s Spreading Wings Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 展翼之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

It is very important to read his birthday R&S before this!

[ This was released on 24 July 2021 ]

[ PROLOGUE ]

While heading home after work, I receive a call from Eli.

I’m guessing there’s information regarding the matter I asked of him from before.

MC: Hello? Captain Eli? Since you suddenly called, does this mean there’s a solution to what I asked about the other time?

Eli: That’s right. I personally made a trip to the municipal administration last week and retrieved the item for you. I’ve already asked City Express to send it over to you.

MC: That’s great! Thanks, Captain Eli!

Eli: It’s no problem. Although it took a little effort, it was retrieved eventually.

MC: I really have to thank Captain Eli. This item is pretty important to me, so you’ve helped me out big time.

Eli: Ah, it’s nothing. Oh yes, the STF is leaving tonight. Gavin just left the bureau and should be heading towards your place now. I shan’t disturb the both of you. I’ll hang up now. Watch out for the delivery.

MC: Mm, I’ve got it. I’ve troubled Captain Eli this time. When our TV station has a matchmaking show in the future, I’ll definitely recommend you!

I hang up. Sure enough, I receive a parcel from the STF not long after reaching home.

Tearing open the packaging, I see a dark coloured square box with the municipal administration’s logo engraved on it.

After removing the cover, a badge sits quietly among the flannel.

A cold light glints on the surface of the coiled design. The flag and peace dove clearly declare the rules of justice and protection.

It silently conveys a certain dignity that can make one hold their breath.

During an awards ceremony organised by the municipal government a few months ago, Gavin wasn’t able to attend in person. As a result, they didn’t manage to give him an honorary badge.

Although the municipal administration made several calls, the STF has been busy with missions, and Gavin hasn’t had the time to collect it.

This matter is something which I’ve always kept in my heart.

I feel that this honour, which represents an “acknowledgement”, shouldn’t be treated so flippantly and hastily.

Hence, while preparing for Gavin’s birthday, I asked Eli way in advance to retrieve this from the municipal administration using the name of STF.

This is an “acknowledgement” which belongs to him, and I wish to hand it to him personally.

All of a sudden, there are knocks at the door. Knowing that the person outside is Gavin, I quickly hide the badge and the box into a cupboard before opening the door.

Then, the person outside wraps me in a full embrace. His scent overtakes my senses.

MC: Are you leaving tonight?

Gavin responds with a “mm”. After nuzzling his head gently in the crook of my neck, he releases his hold on me.

In the short span of half a minute, he seems to have already derived all the strength he needs, and the light in his eyes is very bright.

MC: There’s no need to worry about me, but you have to take care of your safety.

Gavin: I’ll do my best to rush back. Don't worry.

The both of us speak at the same time. Gavin can’t help but laugh. Taking my hand, he pulls me outside.

Gavin: Let’s go and have dinner. We’ll eat outside today.

MC: Okay!

Walking along the street, I look at Gavin’s calm and resolute figure. Recalling the badge which is sitting quietly at home, I secretly purse my lips into a smile.

This year, my birthday plan is a secret which Gavin doesn’t know about. I’m looking forward to the day the secret is revealed, along with his reactions.

[ DATE ]

The faraway snow-capped mountains are reminiscent of a fog coloured outline. They stand at the end of the horizon, faraway and reticent.

On a road not too far from the border, I disembark from the car, standing underneath a street sign while staring ahead.

Approximately half a month ago, Gavin was sent to this city for a mission. Today is the day he wraps up the mission.

It’s also his birthday.

At this moment, my phone rings. I answer it quickly.

Eli: MC, have you reached the location I gave you?

MC: Mm, I’ve reached. Captain Eli, when will you guys be dismissed?

Eli: We’ve already been dismissed and are heading your way. Just stay where you are, and you’ll definitely cross paths with Gavin. Don’t worry.

MC: That’s great. I’ll thank Captain Eli in advance then~

After hanging up, I tap open my memo and verify its contents once more.

MC: The aviation park, guesthouse, cake, and presents. Mm, no problem at all!

I turn my phone off, thinking about how aside from celebrating Gavin’s birthday, I’m also shouldering a very “heavy responsibility”.

Since Gavin wasn’t personally present for the awards ceremony conducted by the municipal government, there’s a medal which has yet to be given to him.

After learning about this piece of news not too long ago, I’ve remembered it in my heart, and specially asked Eli to retrieve this medal from the municipal government in the name of STF.

With a really huge and hidden personal motive, I wish to personally hand this important honour to Gavin on this most special day.

The sudden chirping of birds pulls my train of thought back to reality.

I look at the time. It’s still very early, and the first glimmer of light has just appeared in the sky.

After waiting for a while longer, I spot a group of uniformed men appearing at the end of the road. My heart, which had been dangling in the air, immediately settles.

The person leading the group is wearing a combat uniform. Strands of brown hair curl up in the breeze, and he currently has his head turned towards a squad mate behind him as he says something.

Although they appear to have experienced a fierce battle, the atmosphere is very light-hearted.

Looks like this mission successfully reached its end.

Likely sensing my gaze, he suddenly turns his head, staring afar off towards my direction.

After he getting a clear view of my figure, those amber eyes suddenly freeze. The strands atop his head curl up in a silly manner, as though he doesn’t know how to react.

The early morning mist has not yet dissipated. The world is enveloped in a tender and pale greenish blue, and the chirping of birds occasionally grows faint and near.

The whirring of a helicopter drifts from overhead as it circles in the sky. It’s the aircraft which is here to send them back.

Seeing that Gavin is slightly at a loss, I can’t help but chuckle, waving at him.

Gavin immediately walks over to me, his pace much faster than before. The squad mates follow behind him in a leisurely manner, not planning to disrupt this early morning meeting.

Gavin stands in front of me. He sweeps a glance over my white denim jacket, his gaze a little astonished.

MC: How is it? Does it look good?

Gavin nods, responding in a straightforward manner.

Gavin: Looks good.

MC: I specially prepared a matching set~

While speaking, I pass him the bag in my hands. Gavin receives it and takes a look. With a chuckle, he puts on the exact same jacket deftly.

Although it’s just a simple white demin jacket, it makes him look refreshed and cool.

The early morning mist dyes his eyes, giving them a tender coolness. When his eyes meet mine, they instantly melt into a warm gaze.

At this point, Eli and other squad mates walk over as well. A rope ladder descends from the helicopter, and Eli arches a brow at us.

Eli: This rascal was so anxious to see you that he almost flew back to Loveland City directly. This is good. He doesn't have to fly now.

He pats Gavin on the shoulder.

Eli: Captain Gavin, enjoy your birthday vacation. We brothers will head off first.

One by one, they climb up the rope ladder and board the helicopter. Tang Chao whistles, and he’s grabbed through the hatch by Eli.

Gavin doesn’t bother about them. He removes his half finger gloves, revealing his dry yet soft finger pads. He entwines all ten fingers with mine.

He lifts his eyes to look at me, and they are filled with an insuppressible brightness. He asks a question that he clearly knows the answer to.

Gavin: Why did you come here?

The helicopter circles into the distance, accompanied by a deafening roar. I grin while bringing my left hand to my mouth, curving it into the shape of a trumpet.

MC: It’s clearly to... wish you a happy birthday!

The public bus brings us to the entrance of a park in the outskirts of the city. I pull Gavin off the bus, and we stand at the entrance of the park together.

Turning my head, I scrape Gavin’s palm.

MC: May I know if Mr Birthday Boy is ready to spend a day of surprises with me?

The hand that’s intertwined with Gavin’s moves forward decisively. The smile in his voice is unambiguously clear.

Gavin: Of course.

When I was planning the birthday route a few days ago, I unintentionally chanced upon information pertaining to this park.

As compared to other parks, there doesn’t seem to be anything special about this aviation park.

It’s just another slow-paced venue to relax in within the city. It has a pond which can’t be considered large, and a few willow trees grow along it.

Magazines are displayed on the counter of a small stall, and a child is standing on his tiptoes, selecting a popsicle from the freezer beside it.

If I had to mention the biggest difference, it would be that this park was transformed from an airbase.

In order to remember that it was once an airbase, there’s a white statute of an aircraft in the middle of the park.

Similarly, in order to be in line with the theme of “aviation”, all the shops in the park display miniature aircraft models.

Akin to colourful birds, they carry a yearning for the unconstrained sky.

Perhaps due to it being the summer vacation, a teacher has brought children to visit this ex-airbase.

The children wear yellow hats while chattering away. They surround the aircraft models, debating on which one looks the best.

Gavin and I walk along the shade of trees unhurriedly. When passing by the aircraft statue, he suddenly asks me a question.

Gavin: Did you bring me here because this used to be an airbase?

His gaze flits past the aircraft statue, then pauses on my face.

I nod in acknowledgement.

MC: I heard that this used to be one of the first airbases. In the past, many aircrafts were studied here. It’s a place with lots of commemorative value, and bears the weight of the years when people headed into the sky. Since I’m celebrating your birthday in this city, I felt that I should pick a location which is slightly more special. Otherwise, it wouldn’t leave much of an impression when we recollect it in the future.

Gavin chuckles, then reaches out to pinch my face.

Gavin: Seeing you appear early in the morning while dismissing the squad was already enough to leave a deep impression on me.

I laugh in embarrassment, then continue the earlier topic.

MC: But the airbase is only half of the reason.

I pause, my sentence ending on an upward lilt.

MC: There’s another half.

Gavin arches his brows, as though wondering what other surprises I could have hidden in this small park.

Tugging on his hand, we turn into a small path on the left, a confident smile on my face.

MC: Come with me.

The small path extends forward, and the sound of our footsteps mingles with the rustling of leaves.

After making a turn, everything becomes clear.

Before us, there’s a spacious and empty patch of land. Green grass grows wildly, covering the runway which was once used for aircrafts.

The wreckage of a plane remains on the ground, the rust on its body akin to a brown coloured decorative pattern.

Everything reveals the creases of time, but certain lingering aspirations can still be felt from it.

Gavin: Is this the other half of the reason?

He looks at me, his brows arched slightly.

MC: This was the original location of the airbase. I heard that this abandoned plane used to have the most excellent workmanship. I felt that if you knew about such a place, you’d want to take a look. Also, this is quite a nice place for a hidden scenery~

Gavin suddenly reaches out to brush dust off the body of the aircraft, revealing a series of numbers.

Gavin: Y2251. This used to be an air freighter.

Gavin pauses for a moment. As though he grasped at a fragment from his memories, his eyelashes stir gently in slight disbelief.

Gavin: A very long time ago, I made an aircraft model. This was the aircraft I referenced and modelled it after.

MC: ?!

I’m stunned for half a second. When I see myself in Gavin’s calm and composed eyes, I can’t help but chuckle.

MC: I suddenly feel as though this world might actually operate in a circle. We might move and turn around, but there will come a day when we become part of the circle.

Gavin responds with a “mm”. He gazes fixedly at the set of numbers, as though patching up fragments of memories bit by bit.

Gavin: I used it to participate in a competition and won a prize. Back then, the officer who gave out the award came from this base.

MC: What kind of a competition was it?

Gavin: An aeromodelling competition. The prize was a small aviator badge.

We walk past the propeller of the aircraft wreckage with very light footsteps.

In my mind, a face even younger than the one right now surfaces before my eyes, along with a pair of clear amber eyes.

MC: Wow, that sounds really incredible!

I suddenly see the introductory plate next to the plane, which has a picture of how it formally looked like.

Smooth contours, blue wings, floating cloud patterns on its tail... just like a beautiful flying bird.

MC: How pretty. When you referenced this plane, did you make an exact replica?

Gavin nods. He looks at the plate, his gaze very serious.

Gavin: It was more or less the same as this.

He hesitates slightly, then adds on.

Gavin: Erm... it didn’t look as good. But it was very practical and could fly.

He gestures with his hands, pointing towards a faraway ginkgo tree.

Gavin: Around here to over there - the distance of half a field.

We walk over to that ginkgo tree. Its leaves are luxuriant as it stands next to the side gate of the park.

Since it’s summer, the leaves are lush and green.

A swing is swaying gently and quietly under the tree, and a few ginkgo leaves have fallen onto the wooden seat.

Tugging Gavin over to the swing, we continue our earlier conversation.

MC: We probably walked around 500 metres to get here. An aircraft model which is able to fly 500 metres is so incredible! You must have really liked it in the past in order to do such an amazing job.

Gavin holds the rope of the swing. He nods after hearing this, and his voice is certain.

Gavin: I did like it very much.

Seeing from my expression that I’m about to burst from curiosity, he can’t help but chuckle before going along with me and speaking.

Gavin: Back then, I bought many atlases related to planes. While studying them slowly, I conducted test flights too. I spent almost half of my summer vacation on this. Although the process was very fulfilling, there were times when I faced setbacks. Once, I got into a huff and tossed all the spare parts into my drawer and went to bed.

MC: What happened next?

A nostalgic smile flashes in Gavin’s eyes.

Gavin: I couldn’t fall asleep, so I got up and took all of them out of the drawer. I fumbled around and managed to construct the extending and retracting mechanism of the wings. The next day, I slept till late in the afternoon... My mom didn’t wake me up.

MC: Pfft.

I can almost envision a youth who is sound asleep under the covers, a prototype plane laying quietly on the table.

A breeze enters through the curtains. It’s tender and light-hearted.

MC: Looks like it really isn’t easy to construct an aircraft model successfully.

I’m a little awed.

MC: I remember when we were doing handicrafts in school, the teacher would always say that the final step is to engrave our names as a marker. If I were you, I’d definitely paint my own name at the most conspicuous spot, and tell everyone how incredible I am.

Gavin gives this some thought before he shakes his head.

Gavin: I didn’t engrave my name back then. It was on the small aviator badge, but it got lost after I sent it to my father’s squad.

The way he says this so naturally causes my slightly flinched expression to reveal complicated emotions.

Gavin: Now that I think about it, it wasn’t anything special.

He chuckles, his tone as light as a breeze.

Gavin: They’re all in the past.

He narrates this calmly, as though these memories have long since been shut behind a dusty door.

I think of a 14 year old Gavin. I think of that aircraft model he made personally. I think of the past he had to experience...

A sense of discontent rises from my heart, and I wish to smoothen these regrets.

I stand up, and Gavin lifts his head towards me in slight puzzlement.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: How could we not eat popsicles in a park during summer? I saw a stall selling popsicles earlier. I’ll buy two sticks.

Gavin nods. Just as he’s about to stand up and follow me, I press him back onto the swing.

MC: I’ll buy it. You can just wait for me here.

Gavin arches his brows slightly as he looks at me. As though seeing through my thoughts, he nods.

MC: What flavour do you want?

Gavin: I’ll go with whatever you like.

I nod. Just as I prepare to leave, someone grips my fingers.

I turn around to see that Gavin is looking at me.

Gavin: Be safe.

After a pause, he continues.

Gavin: I’ll be waiting for you here.

MC: Mm, I’ve got it.

I nod, giving him a smile.

I’m standing at a shop near the entrance of the park. Numerous aircraft models of various styles are displayed on the counter.

However, I instantly spot one particular style exhibited in the middle. With its white body and blue wings, it looks exactly like the plane in the original picture from earlier.

When the boss sees me staring at it, he enthusiastically introduces it to me from the side.

Boss: This is a bestseller from our shop. It’s a replica of the plane in the park, built in a 1:400 ratio. This is the only piece left today.

Without hesitation, I purchase it.

Even before waiting for the boss to package it in a box, I pick up the miniature plane and store it into my bag. Then, I quickly jog into the park.

When I hurriedly weave through the crowd and make a turn at the small path, I suddenly halt in my footsteps when I spot Gavin.

He’s sitting on the swing in the park, sunlight from the summer afternoon filtering through the crevices of leaves and descending on him in specks.

A few ginkgo leaves have fallen, scattering at his feet. A few bellflowers are suddenly blown by the wind, releasing a clear and rippling sound.

Gavin watches the bellflowers quietly, and all his sharpness has been retracted.

In an instant, along with the descending ginkgo leaves, I think I see the youth who is encased and hidden by layers of solid armour.

It’s as though he has found a wound which has yet to heal completely but was forgotten with time. When he faces that scar, he waits in quiet solitude.

Akin to an instinctive reaction, I sprint towards him and take his hand.

The moment Gavin lifts his head and looks at me, I see brilliant rays lighting up his eyes.

It seems that he has grown accustomed to waiting. But this time, the person he’s waiting for has arrived as planned.

MC: Sorry, I had to queue for a long time to get the popsicles.

Gavin shakes his head, his brows arched into a smile.

Gavin: It wasn’t very long.

I stretch out my hand, waving the two popsicle sticks in my hand.

MC: Here. The other flavours were sold out, so there’s only lychee left. Give it a try.

Gavin takes one stick. I sit beside him and take a bite of the popsicle, the clear and sweet taste spreading from the tip of my tongue.

I turn my head and ask Gavin a question.

MC: Why aren’t you asking me about what gifts I prepared for you this year?

Gavin: If I said that your appearance here is already the best gift, you definitely wouldn’t be satisfied with this response.

He pauses, his tone bringing with it an unhurried upward lilt.

Gavin: So... what did you prepare for me this year?

Heading out of the park via the side gate, we make a turn at a sloping path. In front, there’s a pretty large lake.

The source of water from this lake comes from the faraway snow-capped mountains. Since there aren’t many tourists, the water in the lake is clean and pure blue.

This patch of blue is reminiscent of a gigantic jewel. It’s deep and tender, adding radiance and beauty to the snow-capped mountain, as though extending to the horizon.

There’s a tranquil guesthouse next to the lake. Gavin and I push open the gate of the courtyard together.

There’s a gigantic tree in the courtyard. July happens to be its flowering season, and the tree is layered with cloud-like petals.

I guide Gavin to the second storey. After lifting the portiere made of colourful cloth, a meticulously decorated room appears before our eyes.

Sprigs of a blossoming plant have been inserted into a vase, and a simple and unsophisticated wind chime hangs by the window.

A birthday cake stored in a transparent box is displayed on the table, and there’s a blue ribbon on it which has been tied into a bow.

Ever since we entered, I've been secretly observing Gavin’s reaction, wanting to know if he fancies such a surprise.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply looks at everything quietly, as though he doesn’t want to miss out on anything.

Then, he walks over to the window, fiddling with the wind chime gently. He sits at the edge of the window casually, and stretches out his hand towards me.

Understanding this immediately, I walk over, placing my hand in his unfurled palm. Sunlight from outside the window envelops this square inch world, and it is tender and tranquil.

Gavin: A very long time ago, somebody told me that I can’t be unhappy on my birthday.

Gavin: Because this day doesn’t just belong to me. It also belongs to everyone who loves me, and the people who have prepared and looked forward to this day for a very long time.

Gavin: Celebrating my birthday with you for the fourth time, I think I truly understand the meaning in those words.

He lifts his eyes, looking at me quietly.

Gavin: I’m very happy. Not because it’s my birthday, but because there’s someone who wishes for me to be happy.

The wind chime that I hung up at the window jingles, akin to a song with an unknown melody.

I had prepared many, many things that I wanted to tell him at this moment. But right now, I swallow these words back.

MC: The person who told you that must have been looking forward to this day very much, just like me. Looking forward to giving you well wishes, and looking forward to you being happy because of the surprises I prepared.

I wink.

MC: Since the atmosphere is just right, it’s time to unwrap your gift.

Very carefully, I retrieve the miniature plane that I purchased earlier from my bag, handing it to Gavin under his watchful gaze.

MC: This aircraft model is a belated gift from MC to 14 year old Gavin. I hope he remembers to engrave his name on it when he receives the gift.

Gavin brushes the body of the plane with a finger pad. He suddenly releases a muffled chuckle, then reaches out to draw me into his arms.

His voice enters my ear, mingling with the rustling of leaves outside the window. It’s very soft, and very close by.

Gavin: If 14 year old Gavin received this gift, he’d have definitely remembered to say thank you on that day.

I wrap my arms around his waist, feeling our overlapping breaths in this moment. After a long time passes, I speak up.

MC: Each time I celebrated my birthday when I was small, I always loved to make many wishes.

MC: Thinking back, many of those wishes were really childish and even greedy.

MC: After growing up, I experienced many regrets, and faced many situations where I had to compromise and give up.

MC: Gradually, my birthday wishes became smaller and simpler. It’s as if I no longer had the same courage as before.

MC: But you’re different. No matter what I want, you’ve always been willing to fulfil them all.

MC: You made me realise that if I’m properly loved by someone, my wishes can be fulfilled no matter how childish they are.

MC: So no matter what Little Gav’s wishes are, I want to fulfil them for him.

Gavin embraces me, and he doesn’t say anything for a long time.

I pat him on the back gently, chuckling as I continue speaking.

MC: Okay, since Little Gav’s present has already been received, it’s time for yours.

I leave from Gavin’s arms, reaching out to cover his eyes. His eyelashes flutter in my palm, and it’s ticklish.

MC: You’re not allowed to open your eyes in secret.

With the greatest of care, I retrieve the honorary badge belonging to the Commander of STF from my breast pocket, putting it in front of his chest personally.

Gavin doesn’t open his eyes. Rays of sunlight outline his face and figure, immersing his entire self in brightness.

Sunlight lands on the badge, and the golden rays reflected off it give a brief summary of the storms and severe winters in this person’s past.

MC: You didn’t participate in the awards ceremony the previous time, so this medal couldn’t be passed to you. Now, I can finally hand it to its owner.

I observe how it looks on Gavin’s chest, and my voice is very soft.

MC: This is also the most important gift of today.

Gavin: The most important gift?

The entire room is filled with a tender glow. Lifting my head, I meet Gavin’s quiet gaze as he stares at me.

MC: Because I’m a witness to every single reason that resulted in you obtaining it.

I’ve personally witnessed how he has used his own body to block off all sorts of dangers, and can clearly remember how many injuries he has sustained.

But he also experiences pain. When he doesn’t sleep for several days and nights, he also gets fatigued.

It’s only today that I vaguely surmise that the reason why he never mentions anything is because since a very long time ago, he learnt that he shouldn’t anticipate any reciprocation from others.

That aviation badge which was forgotten in a corner had once sustained the weight of a youth’s pure gaze.

Afterwards, it was covered by a thick layer of dust. Nobody held it with a heart filled with anticipation ever again. Just like that, it vanished into the depths of time.

Later on, the youth grew up and decided on a correct flight path. He stepped on dark shadows, walking on the path of justice.

He saved so many people, but the only thing he didn’t know how to do was to allow himself to receive a little reciprocation.

Fortunately, I can now stand before him and take his hand. I can tell him that he has done very well, and that he’s the Gavin I like the most.

I wish to give him the most resolute response.

MC: Gavin, you’re worthy of all the honour. You’re worthy of all the recognition. I... am extremely convinced about this.

After hearing this, Gavin blinks slowly. He lifts his hand and touches the badge on his chest.

I lean forward slightly to take his hand. Looking directly into his eyes, I recite the words that I’ve drafted multiple times in my mind.

MC: There’s someone I’ve known for a really long time.

MC: I’ve seen his valiant and heroic side, and have also seen his fierce and decisive side.

MC: He always doesn’t care about how many injuries he sustains, but gets anxious and blames himself whenever I get hurt.

MC: He has brought me to see many magnificent sights, and enabled me to appreciate many stories that I wouldn’t have been able to experience on my own.

MC: He has handed his gentlest side to me without holding anything back. But he doesn’t ask for me to reciprocate in any way.

MC: I wish to keep looking at him like this.

And I also wish to... have him forever and ever.

A breeze from outside the window brings with it a floral fragrance. I watch as Gavin stares at me without blinking, his gaze blooming with tenderness.

Gavin: MC, I remember everything that we’ve experienced together. These experiences are so wonderful, and they’ve filled this space.

He points at his heart.

Gavin: Because this space is full, I can continue to walk on the path that I want to with resoluteness, and do the things that I want.

He pauses, his tone wilful.

Gavin: I’ve decided on today’s wish.

He draws closer to me, and I'm able to catch a whiff of his breath.

Gavin: MC, you are the one who gave 14 year old me a gift. You are also the one who grabbed the hands of both Gavin from the past and the Gavin of right now.

Gavin: You’re the person I was waiting for.

Gavin: So your wishes are also my wishes.

Gavin: From now onwards, keep looking at me.

A floral fragrance fills the room. I stare into his bright eyes, as feel as though I’m embracing the warmth of an entire midsummer.

✈️ Epilogue: here

✈️ Video call: here

✈️ Phone call: here

✈️ Moments and Text: here

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danwhobrowses · 2 years

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One Piece Chapter 1038 - Initial Thoughts

Is the end in sight?

Who knows at this point, because Oda's just throwing us curveballs each and everywhere

But after another week break we get our second chapter of the year...and last chapter of the month, so we'll have to see what awaits the status of the raid now.

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release too

And our cover story tells us that Niji and Yonji got caught, kept in a book in Chocolat Town. I guess this means Germa will have to return for them, Pudding may play a role while Oven plays the antagonist.

Back with the third floor's war of paralysis, and everything is on fire...including Raizo! Fukurokuju is also catching fire but Raizo is still holding his jutsu down

Jimbei also to the rescue on the second floor, saving some no-names from the flaming wreckage

Chopper recovered, RIP to Tiny Tiny Chopper, now he's just regular-sized, that was a few minutes though weren't it?

But his attention is on Zoro, because that mink medicine is gonna run out soon

And he kinda has a right to be, because Zoro is staring at a literal grim reaper!

Is this in his head? Is this Enma? Is it a Hawkins card? We don't know. But I feel like if this were death Zoro would have recognized it from the Nothing Happened experience, so I'd lean towards Enma or an enemy illusion

Franky is en route to find Zoro though, if he makes it there - because Carrot is also in that vicinity, she may find him - we may get swift answers...or not

Over to Izo now, he beat all the enemies but got shot

Still on high alert though, not even looking an a gun is pointed, but Izo soon realises he's pointing at CP0

CP0 though in a much more charitable mood, offering Izo a chance to avoid conflict if they pretend they didn't see each other

But they made the mistake of saying they're after the Straw Hats, I wonder what changed their course to kill Apoo (sneaky bugger's gonna get away with it again!?)

Izo dude I don't like your chances, especially since Marco went walkabouts to the sound of the Kazenbo, maybe Denjiro can leave the shadows? or Kawamatsu? Or Brook and Robin? Or Usopp, Kiku and Kin'emon? You can't do it alone

Speaking of the Kazenbo, Yamato's caught up with it, and just as it was gonna ignite the bombs used their DF to freeze the ropes

The Kazenbo tries to melt through it but Yamato attacks again

Wait IT TALKED! The Kazenbo mentioned Orochi and then manifested a flaming fist to attack Yamato

Over to Big Mom, she's just beating the shit out of Law and Kid now, even as their crews beg her to stop

Girl is panting though, it took a lot out of her

BM wipes out the spectating members of Kid and Law's crew (Jean Bart when will you be allowed do something relevant?)

Aware that Kaido hasn't been celebrating yet, BM decides to float up there and see what's taking him so long, but Law rises once more with the KROOM

His sword turns massive as it impales right through Big Mom, his awakened Counter Shock (Shock Wille) knocks BM down

Before he can face the wrath of the homie girders though, Kid has risen too

BM is surprised at their tenacity, but Kid notes he has a new reason to fight her: Luffy hasn't been beaten yet

Using an giant metal bull (Punk Corna Dio) he charges into BM

Law and Kid are gonna hold her back so she don't interfere with Luffy

Lots of stuff happening in this one!

Raizo is fully on fire, which means he will probably succumb to his wounds after defeating Fukurokuju, I feel like something needs to pop off the moment the jutsu is cancelled because they have just been standing there. Jimbei may need to get involved too because there's fire everywhere caused by Kazenbo, Black Maria and Orochi.

Chopper's recovery means we have a healer back, but he's gonna be rushed off his hooves with all the fire.

Zoro and the reaper, with Franky coming we're moving the pieces around, but I still want Carrot to get more involved, the arrival of Zunesha would imply Zou-related stuff, she and Wanda are with Neko but Inu is on his own. There's reason for Carrot to be on the move is all I'm saying and running into Zoro (the first Straw Hat she properly encountered) would be a good touch, plus I still want her to be Nakama.

Izo looks to be taking his last stand, there are people who could come help him out and it's honorable to fight CP0 while injured to keep them from the Straw Hats, but obviously I don't want Izo to die, he's got a great design and we could easily see more from him. Not many gunslingers in One Piece either.

The Kazenbo talking is a new thing, I guess since this is Kanjuro's final blow that it's the last manifestation of his spirit, I feel like Yamato will need support too, but they've bought Momo time and if they can tank Kazenbo's attacks like CP0 did then perhaps there's a way to move the bombs from harm.

The chapter title was Big Mom vs Law & Kid, but we had to wait till the end for that one. Pretty interesting of Kid to fight outside of his own interests now, purely fighting to give Luffy time rather than claim glory for himself. Chopper seeing Law's KROOM might be a hint to something too but we'll have to see.

Overall the theme of this chapter was just standing your ground: Raizo, Izo, Zoro in a sense (he can't move so he's more lying his ground), Yamato, Law and Kid. It's all a fight against time.

No break as well which is good, colour page for next week implies EVEN MORE STUFF will be about to pop off!

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nachtyr-haus-comics · 2 years

Text

Wammy Week Day 3- Confessions/Lies

Fanfiction Title: Truant

Summary: Near recalls the early days at Wammy's when Mello ran away.

Thank you to @wammyweek for putting on this event!

_____

A distant choir of birds rouses Nate from his slumber. Dainty hands curl under the blanket and come to rest upon his chest. To reside here, snug and warm in this cozy fortress, is bliss. The comforter around him is thick and luxurious; it feels like a secure embrace that covers his entirety.

Nate is certain he could reside in this protective cocoon for eternity; however, it is paramount to stick to the House schedule. Reluctantly, fingers unfurl and grasp the top of the blanket. In one swift motion the bedcover lowers and he sits upright.

The first symptom to note was the ache in his neck, then shoulders, and lastly a twinge of pain where his spine met at the hip bone. Waking up is so exhausting, the boy thinks. He longs to return to five seconds earlier when he felt comfortable and somehow pain-free in his bed nest. Nate levels his head then rotates his neck gently to the left and right. This action allows for many vertebrae to release pockets of nitrogen and pop comfortably.

Weary grayish-blue eyes squint reflexively, their gaze then aligns with the bed next to his. Even without contact lenses, and through his sleepy haze, Nate is certain he can't detect a Mihael-shaped lump anywhere on the adjacent bunk. Morning calisthenics could wait until later; now Is the time to find his roommate.

Nate exhales through his nostrils then swings his legs along the side of the bed. His irritation is apparent as his pale eyebrows knit together; the need for aids in order to perform basic human functions is constantly displeasing. Socked-feet pad around the floor and stop at the dresser.

Quickly he locates his contact case, opens both compartments then carefully applies each lens. Both eyes sting; again, he forgot to switch out the solution, but that could wait until later. Now that his eyes no longer distort the world into that of an impressionistic painting, Nate can effortlessly scan the room.

But just as predicted, Mihael is nowhere to be found. The bed was made, which could indicate that the blonde was ahead of schedule. Nate then looks at the nearby nightstand, and grins. No cup of water, the youth thinks impishly. His right index finger and thumb lift to curl a tendril of platinum hair at his temple. Each night before bed, Mihael would snag a cup from the cafeteria to fill with water; he often woke in the middle of the night feeling parched.

He’s run off somewhere again, Nate thinks as his grin softens to a small smile. While unsure of his willful friend’s location, Nate knows there’s no reason to worry. Mihael would turn up, likely before breakfast, and life would continue as it always did.

Once his waking-up-trauma subsides, Nate stretches, makes his bed, dresses, then exits the room. He walks slowly though the hall, with head low, and twirls his hair contentedly. He was certain to find Mihael either en route to the dining hall or already scarfing down breakfast.

Mihael, it was far too easy to deduce that you never came to bed last night. But, so far, I have not come across any clues as to where you have gone, Nate thinks with a jaunty grin. What made you leave this time?

While Mihael’s current absence is of no concern, his previous late-night excursions were a far different matter. Before Wammy’s, Mihael had lived on the streets for an unknown number of years. Because of this, Mihael was a self-assured and self-reliant individual, and often ran away when the going got tough. While such strategies worked in the wild, running away in civilized human society wasn’t always the best decision. And because Mihael was hot-headed, running off became a recurring problem.

Nate recalls the first time that happened and smiles at the memory. Perhaps it’s odd to remember such a troubling time so fondly; but to know Mihael was to accept all of him, even his feral behavior. The smile remains on Nate’s face as he walks through the halls of the orphanage.

Now, in the present, it seemed so obvious why Mihael had become infuriated before running off that day. Being self-reliant made it difficult to accept help from others, no matter the context; this was exactly the case during an evening study session.

Mihael, who wasn’t fluent in English, needed the classwork translated. Nate had no qualms about assisting. After all, he had been appointed by L for this exact task. Despite Nate’s reservations about accepting, there was no way he would allow himself to decline. L had noticed him and his work; this would be the perfect opportunity to prove himself worthy of being named a successor.

The evening Mihael ran off began with quiet studies. The indignant blonde groaned when he turned to Nate, practically growling out a request for assistance.

Nate was unbothered by his roommate's utterances, placed his pencil on the table and turned to the older boy. He glanced at the worksheet, quietly translated one question from English into Mihael’s native Slovenian, and continued with his own assignment. But there was still a problem: Mihael didn’t understand the context of the sentence.

Large hazy-colored eyes fell upon Mihael’s worksheet again as he took a lock of hair between his fingers. Nate explained the question’s implications best he could, then returned to his own stack of homework. But the description hadn’t been enough.

Mihael’s frustrations mounted and he slammed both palms on the table as a result. The older boy stood from their shared desk and walked in circles about the room, huffing and cursing.

Shaken by this, Nate tried his best to remain calm. He twirled his hair in steadier motions, unsure how to manage the conflict. He gently asked for Mihael to relax and continue to work beside him, hopeful that the situation could still be remedied.

Mihael answered the request by throwing a book in Nate’s direction. Luckily, the projectile missed and landed on the far end of the table.

Mihael seethed, his anger unwavering even when Nate looked at him with wide eyes. The irate blonde gnashed his teeth and threw another book, but this time it was tossed at a nearby wall.

Nate hesitated to say a single word. He didn’t want their work to be further disrupted, nor did he want the commotion to rouse the attention of any caretakers. News traveled fast, and any gossip about a fight between the two would surely find its way back to L. Nate had to prevent that; his reputation and future as L’s protégé were on the line.

The situation reached its climax when Nate stood from his seat and walked towards Mihael. He lifted a hand to grasp one of the older boy’s, trying to urge him toward the work desk. Before Nate could do anything, Mihael smacked him across in the face.

Nate in the present could easily recall the way his face burned as the skin swelled. It wasn’t long after that Mihael quickly dashed out of the room.

Nate was thankful to be alone as he nursed his inflamed cheek. What could he do now? His mind was in disarray. His breath ragged. His face hurt terribly as a welt began to form.

When it became apparent that Mihael wasn’t returing, Nate crawled into bed. He didn’t see Mihael the next morning when he woke, nor did he see him at breakfast, nor during their first period.

By the start of the second period, Nate grew terribly concerned. He couldn’t give his full attention to his classwork and instead rolled the writing utensil between his fingers. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t tell his big brother Ryuuzaki it, especially since he worked in close liaison with L. And L; if word got back to L…Nate didn’t know what would happen.

With a plan in mind, Nate asked to visit the loo. Once his request was granted, he hastily walked the halls in search of Mihael. He had no idea how long he would be away, but losing his opportunity to work under L was far more important. If he received a demerit for skipping class, so be it. When he reached the front entrance of the building he came up on Mihael, sauntering in as if nothing had happened.

Nate was stunned and somewhat afraid. He looked back at Mihael who passed him ten or so paces ago. Shakily, he asked where the blond had been, but no answer came. He didn’t say a word nor did he utter a noise of acknowledgement, and simply kept walking.

He later found Mihael in their shared room sometime before lunch. Nate recalled feeling weary inside their closed-door room; he had no way of knowing when the older boy would lash out again.

He wanted to ask Mihael so many questions. He wanted to admonish him. But he did neither. What mattered was keeping Mihael at the House, so he had to insure that. Somehow. But what could he do?

Suddenly, Nate was struck with an idea. When a child acted out at the House, the most effective approach one of the caretakers could employ was to voice gentle reassurances. Nate had observed this and other strategies many times; he concluded the non-reactive, nurturing approach was most effective.

With that in mind, Nate looked at the inattentive blonde and gently said, "Mihael, I'm glad you came back, and I’m glad you’re okay."

Nate of the present grit his teeth. He leans along a wall of the orphanage as a wave of guilt coils in his stomach. Those words had been a blatant lie. When Nate saw the boy return, he felt relieved but for all the wrong reasons. Then he spoke deceitful words, said out of a need to coerce Mihael into staying.

Afterward, Mihael wouldn't meet Nate’s gaze for several days. Despite receiving the cold shoulder, something later changed. The next time Mihael grew irrational, he didn’t react and instead left their room. No books were thrown, no physical altercation, not even a curse word was uttered under the feisty Slovenian’s breath. The lie seemed to do the trick.

When Mihael ran away after that, he always made a point to show up around breakfast. In turn, Nate would exclaim his gratitude for coming back. As time went by these episodes occurred less often.

Nate smiles and continues to walk the halls. In retrospect, it was wrong to lie, but somewhere down the line, his duplicitous words rang true. Despite the rocky stair, relations between them improved. Now, years later, the two were incredibly close.

In the present, Nate identifies two familiar voices. He turns the corner and finds Mihael and Mail in front of the cafeteria. Nate stares at Mihael, who smiles as he speaks with the redhead. Even if that expression wasn’t meant for Nate, it still made him feel a warmth in his chest. Nate and Miahel were indeed close, and that feeling was proof.

Then pale, gray eyes fall upon Mail, and the warm feeling evaporates. Instantly, Nate frowns. Mail; his mere existence was troublesome. Nate couldn’t reason why, but whenever he saw the pair together, it made him feel antagonistic.

Mihael notices Nate’e, then Mail.

“Hey, it’s Nate!” Mail waves.

Nate tilts his head to one side and softens his lips to form a thin, unemotive line. He bites his tongue then acknowledges the words with a short nod. Mail’s over-friendly disposition is most unpleasant.

After straightening his head, Nate nods a second time.

“Good morning, Mihael, Mail.”

Mail smiles.

Mihael grins.

“Late for breakfast, huh? That’s not like you, N!” Mihael folds his arms over his chest with a sneer.

Nate grins in reply. A classic tactic of Mihael’s is misdirection, but Nate could not be fooled so easily. “It's almost 7:30am which means I am right on time." Calmly, he twirls a lock of hair.

“Right, sure.” Mihael’s grin falls away.

“Where were you last night?” Nate asks pointedly.

“Oh, I can tell you!” Mail interjects with a gleeful tone. “We snuck out to that little shack all the way back near the forest. No one uses it so we’ve made it into our secret base!”

Grayish blue eyes narrow. Nate couldn’t understand what Mihael saw in the bubbly redhead. He then looks at his roommate. “I see, and what were you doing there, Mihael?”

“Oh we were--” Mail begins. But his voice fades one Mihael’s elbow connects abruptly with his side.

“He asked me, Mail,” Mihael shakes his head. “Look, Nate, it’s none of your business, got that?” He scoffs and places a balled fist at the peak of his right hip.

Nate’s eyes further narrow. He didn’t understand the unreasonable behavior Mihael exhibited in Mail’s presence. While they did share an academic rivalry, Mihale and Nate had no reason to butt heads.

In very specific situations, Mihael was gentler, even with Mail around. A prime example was their usual lunch time routine. Nate would swap his dessert, always a chocolate digestive, for Mihael’s piece of fruit, most often an apple. Then Mihael would ask one of the cafeteria staff to cut and peel the fruit so that Nate could easily consume it.

It was a practice Mihael always did. Even if he hated asking, he still followed through, and Nate felt special because of it. After all, he was Mihael’s bratec. Nate felt certain no one at Wammy’s knew that the phrase meant ‘younger brother’, but Nate knew. Nothing could change that fact, not even whatever Mihael and Mail shared.

Back in the present, Mail whines, then shoves Mihael's elbow away. “Heeey…it’s not a big deal! We can tell ‘im what we did last night!”

Mail closes the distance between Nate and himself.

Taken aback, Nate turns several degrees from Mail. Fingers twist one lock erratically.

“I found a bug!” Mail happily proclaims.

“A bug…?” Nate blinks. His fingers slow in his hair.

“Yeah!” Several vigorous nods and fist pumps display Mail’s excitement.

“Geez, Mail, why’d you tell him?” Mihael groans. “Argh, it sounds so lame…” He lifts an index and middle finger to the bridge of his nose.

Mail spins around. “Hey! George is not lame!”

“George?” Nate’s eyebrows knit together. His fingers completely stall.

“Yeah! I found George right before light’s out.” Mail shakes his fists with glee. “He’s pretty awesome looking! I can show ‘im to you later if you wanna see!”

Unintentionally, Nate grimaces. “Sure…”

Excitement is quickly replaced with doubt and listlessness on Mail’s face. He grips the bottom of his shirt and stares at the floor. “But, I don’t think George liked his new home much. So I went n’ asked Mihael ‘bout it.”

White hair begins to repetitively twirl around slender fingers once more. “Are you referring to a computer glitch, or an insect?”

Clearly upset with the situation, Mihael lifts his hand to the back of Mail’s head. Fingers comb through the locks and grasp them. Then he pushes Mail’s upper body forward until his head is level with his waist.

“This moron, “Mihael releases his hold on Mail, then speaks with a disapproving tone, “thought it was a good idea to put a cicada in a glass jar without any air holes.” He crosses his arms over his chest again.

“Ah, hey!” Mail gasps as he corrects his stance. “I told George I was sorry!”

Mihael rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Why are you being a meanie?” Mail puffs his cheeks with downturned eyebrows. He lifts his fists back at the level of his chest and shakes them as a display of annoyance. “You told me George was really cool!”

With another eye roll, Mihael frowns. “Geez, will you shut it already?” He turns to Mail and whispers, “What happens at The Base is between you and me, okay?”

A confused expression creeps into Mail’s features. He’s slow to grasp the concept of keeping base intel confidential. Once the words sink in, Mail wears an expression of worry then nods at his friend. “Ooh, sorry, sorry!”

Mihael rolls his eyes again. “Geez, you’re supposed to be really smart, what’s wrong with you?” He grins at Mail and shakes his head again.

“I see,” Nate hums, his fingers curling his hair at a slow pace. “I am glad to know you didn’t wander off the property this time.”

“Leave here? No way!” Mail shakes his head. “I don't wanna get in too much trouble! We both stayed in my room when we got back.”

A wicked grin forms on Mihael’s face. “And so what if I did leave the property? You gonna tell on me?” The arrogant blonde thinks for a moment before he speaks again. “Wait, I see what’s going on. You were worried about me, hm?” The tip of his tongue sticks out as he turns his nose upward at Nate.

“Ah, Mihael! Don’t be like that!” Mail chided. His reprimanding tone greatly contrasted his timorous body language. Small hands ran along the bottom hem of his shirt to continually twist and roll the fabric between his fingers. “What if Nate was really worried ‘bout chu?”

Nate curls his hair in delicate motions. “No, Mail, I wasn’t worried. Not at all.” A quick thought passes and causes Nate to smile. It didn’t matter what sort of self-indulgent adventures Mihael got into, because Nate knew; he knew that when morning came Mihael would return to him. “I never have to worry.”

Mail gasps. “Wait, really?”

Nate nods, then looks at Mihael.

The haughty expression was long gone from the Slovenian’s features and a frown replaced the grin. Piercing blue eyes bore into Nate’s own, but their gaze is softer now, with hints of cautiousness and curiosity. “What are you getting at?” says the blonde.

Nate’s smile deepens. “I don’t have to worry about Mihael. Because he always comes back, no matter what.”

#wammy week 2022 #wammy's era #platonic #meronia #running away #physical abuse #mihael smacks nate in the face #also nate is a meanie to mail #they get along later #not in this fic but #fanfiction #death note #mello #matt #near

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purple-fireflies · 3 years

Text

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, ��You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

#soy luna #soy luna fic #lutteo #soy luna grey's au #simbar #yamiro #gastina #hope you guys enjoy it!

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

Text

Not a Scratch (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: You knew he would come back. You knew. So you kept the crystal around your neck. A pendant. A reminder. It was why you weren’t surprised when the call came in over the transceiver--garbled and urgent, but intelligible:

“This is Rey. I have Ben. We’re on our way back--need medics on ready!”

It hadn’t mattered, the 8 years of distance, of longing, of memory. Ben Solo was back.

Words: 6800 (fucking... why)

Warnings: Just a lot of feelings.

Characters: Ben Solo/Kylo RenxReader

A/N: A long overdue gift for one of my closest, enduring friends, @faestae. There are few words I can say that illustrate what our friendship has meant to me, so I hope that this, a try-hard attempt at a love letter, says enough.

That being said, I desperately needed to save Ben Solo, as I've needed to do since 2015. So, here's the actual canon ending to TROS--isn't it weird how that works?

I hope that y'all enjoyed this. I really enjoyed writing Ben's conflict and confusion. I love him, no matter his name. And I love y'all, too. Thank you! <3

“Promise me.”

Ben Solo’s hands cover the kyber crystal in yours as a plea, his eyes clouded with restrained terror. His bottom lip, pillowy and pink, quivers, and he shakes his head, anxiety rolling from him in waves. Weaving your fingers through his own, you tug him close, seeking out his gaze. He avoids you, jaw straining.

“It’s going to be okay, Ben.”

“How do you know that?” he replies. “You don’t understand. I’ve heard what they say.” Tension builds again in his shoulders, and like a dog, he wags it away. “Promise me you won’t wait for me.”

“Your family loves you,” you say, and he stands, ripping his grip from yours. You follow, reaching for his arm. “Nothing is going to happen. It’s going to be okay!”

“Stop saying that!” he snaps, fire flickering in his pupils. He’s heaving, his sight glossy. You always forget how massive he is. He holds you in his stare, chest filling with air. There’s a pause--you think he might apologize--but he turns away, releasing a sigh. “Go. Go home. Forget about me.”

Heart cracking, you fold your arms. Your throat is tight. “You know I could never do that.”

“Well,” he says, “start trying.” He stands there a moment, mind churning with something you’re not sure you want to know. “Go.”

“Ben--”

Ben murmurs your name. It’s disarming. “Please.”

Chewing your lip to keep it from trembling, you leave, gripping the crystal. You don’t look back.

The memory was worn from use, now, muddled in places, exact details blurred to approximations, sentences rounded to paraphrases. Sleepless nights, you would caress its frayed edges, holding it like gauze over the wound in your heart, waiting for the ache to cease--yet each morning, like stitches popping, the wound would bleed anew, redder with each reminder of his presence.

If you had been smart, you would have made that promise and kept it. If you had been smart, you would have stayed away from the Resistance and Leia Organa. If you had been smart, you would have done as he had asked--banished his existence to a corner of your brain where recollections went to rot, let it wither into decay.

But you’d done none of those things. Desperate to keep a connection, you’d maintained a relationship with his mother, in the hopes that one day, he’d come back to you, that you’d prove to him that you hadn’t been foolish to wait for him as he’d believed.

Then came the news of the Jedi Academy.

Then came the news of Kylo Ren.

You followed Leia Organa into war. You became a part of the Resistance. You were one of the few breathing members left. And even as you witnessed him crumble the movement to its knees, you shielded that memory from bitterness, clutching at its most poignant wrinkles, coiled around the strongest, clearest tether to that night.

The kyber crystal.

No matter how desperate with hatred Ben had become, that tether grounded you to what you knew of Ben Solo--a boy on the precipice of his manhood, a boy consumed with expectations and swallowed like sunlight by the black, wretched shadow of fear. It had chased him, you knew, for years. Even after it had snagged him with its claws, drawn him deep into the mire of resignation, you nurtured a seedling of hope, sustained almost entirely on the nourishment of the feeling of the crystal in your hands.

You knew he would come back. You knew. So you kept the crystal around your neck. A pendant. A reminder.

It was why you weren’t surprised when the call came in over the transceiver--garbled and urgent, but intelligible:

“This is Rey. I have Ben. We’re on our way back--need medics on ready!”

Scrambling, you charged into action, shouting out to your comrades, “Hey! Rey’s coming back! Injured parties on board!” You careened through the base, calling out to whoever would listen, leaping over supplies, tripping over wires, tumbling into groups trying to sneak a meal. “Injured parties en route! All medics on deck! Rey’s coming!”

Your blood flew through your veins at lightspeed, the possibilities spinning like roulette in your mind. Ben was coming back--Ben. Not Kylo Ren, but Ben Solo, your Ben, and you would be able to see him, touch him, hold him again after 8 long, awful years. Your hidden memory burbled to life with renewed color--you could see the line of his nose, the waves of his hair, the breadth of his shoulders as if they were in front of you, now.

The excitement was tempered by the realization of Rey’s request--medics. Fear and joy fought for dominance when you pictured his body torn with wounds, soaked with blood, heavy with pain. Breath shuddering in your lungs, you searched for a place to sit, to wait. Your desire was to be the first to see him off the ship, to leap into his arms, to grasp at his face and smother it with your affection. But you knew that this was his mother’s place, not yours. If Ben was gravely injured, then to try to be with him would only complicate the issue. This was to say nothing about the impact of his choices--what everyone else on the base might think.

An interesting man you’d chosen to love.

Despite your resolve to sequester yourself in your tent during his arrival, the noise of Rey’s ship landing was too difficult to resist. You poked out your head, watching a swarm of Resistance fighters surround the vessel. The reality of his arrival sent your heart into your throat, hands fidgeting as you scanned every new movement for evidence of his presence, willing your eyes to believe what they were about to see. The hatch opened, and out stepped Rey--bloody, dirty, but still bearing a gleaming grin. She fell into the arms of her cheering friends, and you grew more impatient, craning your neck to see him appear behind her.

Silence cast over the celebratory din before you saw him, as if his presence destroyed the idea of joy on base--his hair was long and dark, curls blown out from sweat. He looked even larger than you had remembered, his wide frame padded with the muscle of an experienced warrior, and his face… It was just as beautiful as you remembered--full lips under hazel eyes, a long nose--but so tired. And nervous.

The urge rose to call out to him.

“Ben…”

You clamped your hand over your mouth, horrified--until you realized it hadn’t been you who had spoken.

The crowd parted for Leia Organa as she strode to the front, meeting her son at the threshold, where he stood transfixed, an effigy crafted from terror. Your tongue dried when you observed Ben take one step forward, and another, before crumbling to his knees, face buried in his fists, shoulders swelling with emotion you were too far to hear. Leia crossed to her son, pressing his head to her chest, stroking his hair. Quiet words passed her lips, and his body wracked, trembling in her embrace.

Pulse pounding, you retreated to your tent. Quakes rumbled through you, your palms slick with perspiration, breath rattling as if your ribs had come loose. Thoughts raced through your mind faster than you could identify them, tears welling and slipping over your cheeks. You laughed, despite yourself, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. The moment you’d spent the past 8 years preparing for had arrived--and you couldn’t even bring yourself to see him. Being a spectator to his icy reception, his collapse into his mother’s arms, had been more sobering than you’d anticipated. You realized that after all he’d been through, who was to say he’d even still care about you?

Who was to say he even remembered your name?

The mask you’d so carefully carved over the past near-decade shattered, and you sobbed, a long, broken gasp of air pulled into your lungs. It was cold in your throat, pins poking you from the inside as you wept, years of denial wilting, parting for torrents of doubt. Your last conversation with Ben had ended with him begging for you to forget him--he’d gone on to renounce his name, become Supreme Leader of the First Order. He’d murdered his own father. How, after any of this, could you think his mind hadn’t oh-so-ceremoniously murdered you, too?

Whining, you fell into your bed and tugged a blanket over your shoulders, concealing your necklace with a fist, as if you could will it to disappear. You’d been stupid, so stupid. You’d loved Ben, but the man that exited that ship was not the same Ben you’d loved. And he might not ever be. A chill settled over your stomach while you pulled the cover tighter, like it was a barrier protecting you from reality, like you could stave off falling into a canyon of despair.

You remained there, the crushing awakening of foolishness ceding to an empty rot, eyes boring through the far flap of your tent. Outside, restless chattering bloomed as time moved forward, groups of your relieved comrades downing spirits for the first time in what seemed like millenia. Raucous peals of laughter erupted from positions near and far, a group in the distance taking to singing after a few hours of drinks had passed. You heard it all, trapped in your fetal position, cursing yourself for your ignorance.

At least you had the manners not to invite anyone to your pity party.

Daylight dimmed, and your legs grew restless, your chest bubbling with anxiety. You sighed, rolling out of your bed, dragging your fingers over your face. It felt swollen, tight, your cheeks sticky with the remnants of your tears. As much as you wanted it, to remain like a statue in the tent, an observer to the victory of the Resistance, would be impossible. You’d fought for this, too--to hide out of, what, embarrassment? Shame? It didn’t seem right. At some point, you would have to face him. Might as well get it over with now.

It was likely Ben had been taken to the medic tent, but you couldn’t imagine where he’d gone after that, if he had been all right. Maybe he’d gone to stay with his mother. Quelling the tremor in your lungs with a deep breath, you trudged out into the camp, wandering along to Leia Organa’s tent. Gaggles of Resistance members cheered with raised spirits when you passed, but your brain was numb to their joy, still shackled to the memory of Ben Solo. Freedom hadn’t been awarded to you, yet.

Celebration on base had reached a loud, rolling plateau, and as you moved deeper into base, you spotted unfamiliar ships littered across the landscape, the doors open, the lights on. News was spreading, apparently, and everyone was invited to the party. Another claw of anxiety tugged at your heart--perhaps Leia and Ben would be too flocked with visitors to entertain you. Perhaps you’d arrive and appear even more foolish than you’d felt when you’d seen him walk off the ship. Perhaps there were dozens of people he’d wanted to see, names foreign and unknown to you, and perhaps you should’ve just stayed in your tent like you’d had the inclination to do instead of getting up and walking through this fucking crowd to get to another fucking crowd and--

Leia’s tent was marked by two lanterns outside the entrance--but not a soul in sight outside its boundaries. In fact, it looked as if there’d been a deliberate effort to leave a radius of empty space around her encampment, like an invisible barricade of solitude had been erected. In the cacophony, Leia Organa’s space was unblemished refuge, an oasis of peace that you desperately craved. Yet it stalled you--to break this unofficial blessing seemed wrong. You didn’t want to be the weird girl hanging outside the General’s tent. But the crystal was heavy around your neck. Weirdness be damned.

You crept through the encroaching shadows, hoping to avoid curious eyes while you drew closer to the entrance flap. Before you could push it open, your ears caught the rumbled hush of speech, and your pulse quickened. It was wrong to eavesdrop. And yet…

“It will take time. You knew that when you stepped off that ship.”

That was Leia’s voice--soft, warm. A long pause hung in the air.

“I don’t know why I did. They’re right to hate me.” The next words were pushed between teeth. “I am a monster.”

Your stomach constricted, a punch to your gut. Ben. Hearing him speak had you doubled over, sweat staining your neck, muscles locked in shock. Now, even if you’d wanted to move, you couldn’t.

“I know my son,” Leia said. “And he is no monster.”

“Your son murdered his own father.”

“I know.”

“Your husband.”

“I know.”

“Then how can you…” A hitch of breath, a crackle of noise, like a cry caught in his throat. “How can I…”

Rustling inside the tent, the sound of stifled sobs. Shushing. “This won’t be easy, Ben. It won’t. But you’ve made it this far.” More rustling. “And you’re not alone.”

A snort of dismissal. “Aren’t I?”

“You’re not,” Leia said. “And I won’t let you think you are. You have me. Rey.” She didn’t say your name. Your heart thumped. “The first steps of any journey are the most difficult.”

There was a long, resigned sigh. A stuttered breath. Another pause. “Yes,” Ben croaked. “You’re right.” He sniffed, clearing his throat. “You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” said Leia. “Now come on. I haven’t seen you eat a thing.”

Shuffling inside the tent, and you choked on your own spit as your insides flipped. Leia hadn’t mentioned you. Maybe she already knew he didn’t remember you. Relief and horror flooded you at once, your fingers twisting around your necklace. More than anything, you wanted to rush into the tent, throw your arms around him, show him he truly wasn’t alone--but instead you stood there, a shell, paralyzed by what you’d heard.

It was true that he was not the same man you had loved. Before, when Ben had spoken, you’d felt his dread, his unease, it had gripped you with its claws. Now, even through his pain, you sensed resolve, a tide of confidence splashing in his mind.

“Do you…” It was Ben again, voice like a quiet ocean. “There was a girl. Before I left.” He sniffled again, and your lids widened. A girl. “I gave her a kyber crystal. Do you...” He sighed. Your breathing stopped, fist sheathing the crystal. “Do you know what happened to her?”

Leia spat out your name, incredulous. “Of course I know what happened to her. She’s here.”

Heat flashed through you. Your neck was drenched, for sure. You hoped against hope your armpits had been spared. Ben remembered you. He remembered.

“Here?”

“On base,” she said. “She joined the Resistance.”

You could hear the smile in her voice. Meanwhile, your throat was drier than the sands of Jakku. Given a few more minutes of this, your body might turn to sand, too--just disintegrate right there, a pile of dust at the perimeter of Leia’s tent. Silence settled for a moment.

“She’s here.” It was a statement of disbelief.

She chuckled. “Did you really think she would just forget you?”

“Mom…” Noise inside the tent again. “I…”

The tent flap opened, and you yelped, leaping back. There, light shimmering like an aura around his massive silhouette, stood Ben Solo.

Up close, he was even more beautiful. His dark, amber eyes were still wet, already full mouth swollen from weeping. He met your stare, jaw dropped. Air had been stolen from both of you, if the lack of breathing on either side was an indicator. Inside your ribs, something fluttered, and you hoped it wasn’t an oncoming heart attack--but if it was, you’d die happy. Ben’s gaze searched you, drawing over every centimeter of your figure, mapping you to the image in his memory, that, seeing him now, you’d known he’d kept. Just like you’d kept yours.

“Uhm…” Finally, you inhaled. “Hey.”

A long, slow breath spread in Ben’s chest. His eyes refused to leave yours. “Tell me where you’re staying.”

You swallowed. “What?”

He blinked, clearing his throat. “I--... No, sorry.” Looking over his shoulder, he shrugged, gesturing to you. “I’m going to--”

“Just get out of here, already!” Leia chided. You could hear the mirth in her tone.

Ben nodded, and you turned, leading him with quick strides to your own tent. He stayed on your heels, perhaps hoping that his attachment to you would serve as camouflage. It worked, mostly--between the waxing excitement in the camp, the setting of the sun, and the effort to hide your faces, only few lingering stares caught you escaping through the crowds with the former Kylo Ren.

It hadn’t mattered, the 8 years of distance, of longing, of memory. You felt Ben behind you now as if he’d never left, his presence fitting into the ache you’d dug your fingers into, wrenched open, kept gaping. In this moment of rediscovery, wordlessness filled the space between you, not out of emptiness, but out of fullness--too much, too many words; they coalesced into a fog that surrounded you, dizzied you, excited you. Ben Solo was back.

Ben Solo was back.

Lips pinched together, you peeled back the entrance to your tent, and he ducked in. Heat branded you, like he was fire, scorching you when you drew too near. Ben sat on your bed--afraid to burn, you took the chair across from him, feeling ten times tinier when you sank into the seat, shoulders curling over your torso, hands hiding between your knees. Both of you stared in silence.

His gaze was more intense than you remembered--there was an urgency within the depths of his irises, like a panther, crouched in the darkness, ready to pounce. His body was wound with that same urgency, coiled within him, even as he sat on your bed, looking entirely familiar. It was as if Ben was trapped beyond water’s surface, the death throes of Kylo Ren echoing across his skin, shattering his image with each ripple. Fingers biting your knees, you remembered to breathe.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said. “You…” His lips twitched. “It’s good. To see you.”

A sniffle escaped, the tears already welling. Internally, you cursed. Shouldn’t you be a little harder to impress? “I just…” You smiled, despite yourself. “I’m so glad you’re back, Ben.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s…” He met your stare, glanced away. “Yeah.”

You watched his attention wander across the floor of your room, drawn to the ceiling by the hosts of doodles, notes, Resistance memorabilia you’d pinned in artistic menageries, a feeble attempt to make it feel like home. You’d never been successful in that venture. No matter how many trinkets you’d collected over the years, nothing had done the trick to make your bed feel more familiar. Ben’s eyes rested on you again.

Nothing until now, anyway.

“You came to the Resistance.” His head tilted. “When?”

“Well…” Your expression tightened. “Not long after you, uh, told me to go home and forget about you.”

Ben huffed. “You were never very good at listening to me.”

You offered him a little shrug. “Isn’t that what you liked about me, Solo?”

He peered at you, a hint of intrigue at the corners of his eyes. “It is.” A pause while he considered you. “What do you know about what I’ve--”

“Everything,” you replied quickly. You knew it all, and wanted to discuss none of it. Not now. He was here, he was within your reach. You wanted to relish this moment. “I know all of it.”

A sigh left him. “All right,” he said. “You know all of it.”

“I do.” You raised your hands in submission. “And none of it scares me.”

“None of it.”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

His brow twitched. He looked to his feet, quiet.

For years, you’d imagined his return, pictured this moment in varied shades. In your daydreams, you’d always wrapped him up in an embrace, pulled him into a deep kiss, ran your fingers through his hair, like years hadn’t elapsed between the last time you’d even linked hands. That seemed wrong, now--but you didn’t want it to be. How bold you could be in your mind. You nearly slapped yourself in frustration. Almost a decade of pretending, and you were just going to sit and watch him guess how to talk to you? No. Hell no.

“Ben,” you said, “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

He tensed, then relaxed in another long sigh. He whispered your name. “You’ve… To see you here…” A tiny smile twisted the corners of his mouth. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You smiled, wiping away more unbidden tears. Warmth glowed between you, now, cutting through like shears to the well-worn path that time had overgrown. Shifting, you inched forward in your chair.

“Are you okay?” You gestured toward him, waving your hand around. “I know they called for medics when you arrived.”

He cocked his head again, and sat up, wagging his shirt, as if to demonstrate he was free of serious injury. “I seem to be in one piece.”

You spied a hole in his shirt, and you frowned. “What’s that?”

Ben glanced at you, thoughtful. Then he dropped the shirt, and it fell against his body, framing a peep of his naked torso. “You’ve never seen a lightsaber wound before?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Rey stabbed me,” he said matter-of-factly, like this was what you’d expected him to blurt out. “It’s fine, though. She healed it.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry…” You shook your head. “What?”

“It still burns. It’s eating me from the inside.” A pause, Ben’s gaze leveling you with violent severity, your stomach sinking into your gut--and then he grinned. “I’m kidding.” He poked himself through the hole. “You never know what the Force is truly capable of until your own lightsaber is sticking out of your stomach.”

“Stars, Ben!” You smirked against your will, fighting the laugh that wanted to burst through. “You’re such an ass.”

He shrugged, a sly look still pulling at his face. “Really, it’s fine,” he said. “See for yourself.”

Raising a brow, you went to stand, anxiety strapping your limbs to the seat. “Oh, um, I don’t know,” you replied. “I mean, I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s fine.” His voice was lower, harsher. “You could never be rude to me.”

Blush eked over your cheeks. “If you say so, Solo.”

You stood and crossed to him, breath shallow, and sat gingerly next to him, scanning his figure. Never had you imagined Ben could be even bigger than he’d been in your memories--yet here he was, looming over you without standing, crowding your bed and your clarity with equal effectiveness. You looked between his face and the hole in his top, and he nodded. Jaw clenched, you reached out and poked it.

Two thoughts flashed through your mind when your flesh connected. The first was surprise--he was right, the alleged wound was completely healed; there wasn’t even a scar. The second, almost immediately after, came paired with a rabid streak of desire. Holy--he’s… firm. Swallowing, you met his eyes. They were dark.

“Ben,” you breathed. “That’s… incredible.”

Your finger hadn’t left his torso. Staying linked to his stare, you shifted closer, pressing your entire hand against his abdomen, palm splaying over the wall of tight muscle, skimming it like water over rocks. When you met the hem of his top, your digits crept underneath, brushing across his skin. His stomach twitched, but his eyes remained trained on yours--breathing now optional. Electricity sparked at your fingertips, stealing your rationality, and you caressed him, tumbling into the warmth, the solid strength of his body, your blood racing, urging you to discover more. Your hand snaked up to his chest, grazing the smooth expanse of flesh, catching the hammering of his heart beneath his sternum, his hardened nipples, and back down, resting on his lean belly. He stiffened when your digits kissed the trail of hair that led lower. He was hot. Or you were hot. You couldn’t tell, anymore.

Ben’s chin quivered. “Not a scratch on me.”

“No…” You couldn’t stop staring at his fucking mouth. “Not a single one…”

Trapped in hesitation, both of your eyes locked again--and you saw it there, misty in his gaze, his ache, his desire, his agony--and you both snapped, crashing like gravity into the other.

Ben seized your face, his plush lips working over yours, forcing a groan from you when his fingers threaded through your hair. He cradled you, binding you to him, tugging your closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, a moan following. You melted like wax in his grip, molding to him as if you’d been carved from his memory, one hand traveling along the lines of his abdomen, the other plunging into his own hair. The waves whispered like silk over your skin, and you shivered, mewling into him, your tongue swirling around his. Bolder, now, your hand skated across his frame to feel his powerful shoulders, and he tensed again, another moan leaving him.

Scraping your nails over his scalp, you eased closer, until your thighs touched, and in the motion, your palm drifted low, sweeping over the insistent, hard bulge in his pants. Ben gasped, folding over, lids wide with shock, cheeks flushed. You blinked, frozen, and he glanced at his erection, then at you. The knot in his throat bobbed.

“Ben...”

Exhaling, he nodded.

You reached down, working at his pants, monitoring the anticipation rising in his face. After a moment of rustling, it sprang free--long, thick, and heavy, just as you’d remembered. Lust flooded you, your thighs pressing together, your cunt throbbing while you stared. It had been years since you’d done this, and judging by his anxious lip-bite, it had been just as long for Ben, too. Throat tight, you held his gaze, ghosting the tips of your digits along his shaft.

He choked, cock bobbing with yearning--his lid twitched while he observed you observing him, his hands curling in and out of fists. A shaky breath exited your lungs, and you teased him again, toying your fingers along the head, smearing drops of his pre-cum, and back down, memorizing the tiny veins. Ben’s own breath quaked, lids fluttering, and your core thrummed again. You wrapped your hand around his dick, feeling how hard, how needy he was, and stroked him.

Like molasses, he collapsed, sinking into his seat, body yielding to the pleasure pulsating through his nerves. He watched you, jaw slack, as you pumped his cock, thumb collecting pre-cum and glazing his length with it. Breath rolled through him, steady, his legs spreading, fists finally unwinding, hands resting at his sides. Ben was hot--his heat ached in your fist, his pulse jumped through your digits, the heartbeat of his cock echoing to your pussy.

You jerked him faster, squeezing his shaft, and he shuddered with a moan, hips bucking to fuck into your grip. More pre-cum leaked from his tip, coating your hand, and you worked it along his dick, earning another moan, another tremble of pleasure. His eyes fought to stay on you. You twisted your wrist, changing pace, heart leaping when his head fell back, hair tumbling onto his brow.

“Fuck,” he murmured, “fuck…”

He was throbbing hard, now, writhing, breath coming faster, sweat glistening on his cheeks. Despite how badly you wanted to fuck him, you just as badly wanted to watch him cum, wanted to see him cover himself with his seed, wanted to watch him lose himself in the ecstasy only you could provide him.

Your name spilled from his mouth in a gasp, and he spasmed, snatching your wrist. His cock twitched in fury, ripped like thread from its release, and he sucked in a deep breath, pushing up on his palms and pulling you into another kiss. Humming in delight, you kissed him back, returning your hands to his hair--but he pulled them away, pinning them to your sides, growling as he dragged his teeth along your jaw.

Ben then busied himself with your clothes, nibbling lower, to your neck, while he peeled your jacket from your shoulders and tore your shirt toward your head. His touch was a match, embers exploding over your skin, stoking your appetite to strip for him. You wriggled free of your top, and Ben went to kiss you again, pausing when he saw the pendant around your neck, exposed now. Wonder glittered in his gaze, large fingers tilting it in fascination.

“You still have this.” He studied it, appraising each facet.

You nodded. “It’s never left my neck.”

He said nothing, rotating it between his thumb and forefinger. His level of focus brought fresh blood to your cheeks; you thought to move, but didn’t, suspended under his scrutiny. Longing, need, fervor, all paused as Ben wrestled with the concept of your devotion.

“I…” His stare fell, over your breasts, to your stomach, raking over your legs, and back up, greed growling behind his pupils. “I want you.”

You grinned. “You have me.” Your hand covered his as it fiddled with your crystal. “I... I want to keep this on.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, smirking. “No reason to break your streak, now.”

Giggling, you kissed him again--his hands slid behind your back, fussing with your bra before tossing it aside. He pawed at your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh, mouth falling to suckle at your throat. When you whimpered in pleasure, he groaned, easing you onto your back, thumbs flicking at your nipples before smoothing over your stomach and grappling with your bottoms. His hair tickled your jaw while he nipped at your neck, and you wrestled with his top, hands gliding over the strong planes of his back as you yanked it toward you. Ben grumbled, reluctant to release you, but seemed to agree that his clothing was impeding your mutual goal. His shirt came free, tossed aside, followed by your shoes and panties. The vulnerability made you squirm--not just yours, but his, too.

Ben’s body was even more perfect than you’d pictured when you’d traced it with your fingers. Every part of him was weaponized, down to the bits of exposed thigh you caught from his half-shucked pants. You swallowed, realizing the extent, the breadth of his power--how easily he could crush you, how effortlessly he’d done it to others--the vestiges of Kylo Ren evident in the taut landscape of his torso, the veins in his forearms, the cobwebs of white scars on his flesh.

But in his eyes, you saw only Ben Solo, a man possessed by your naked figure flushed with passion for him. Your pussy clenched--you became aware of how wet you were, and your face burned.

Silent, he guided a large hand up the side of your hip, his tender touch earning another throb of your cunt. Digits sketched around your nipples before he squeezed your tits again, reveling in your gratified response.

“You like that,” he murmured.

Nodding, your thighs ground together, the longing between your legs becoming too furious to silence. Ben smirked. Without a word, five fingers skimmed over your belly, brushing over your mound, and you cracked, moaning. In response, his dick pulsed, almost hitting his stomach with its demand. As if to invite him, you spread your legs, allowing him a full view of your wet, swollen pussy--and Ben’s breath hitched, hand gripping his length and jerking it slowly.

Being so close to him again was simultaneously familiar and bizarre, like you were getting intimate with a stranger who just happened to know all the quirks and triggers of your body, like a person you’d known only from your dreams had rolled into your bed, ready to enact your fantasies. But Ben Solo was not only real, he wasn’t a stranger. He was yours.

“Ben,” you breathed. “Please…”

Shushing you, he lowered himself on top of you, skin swathing skin, warmth encompassing you, and he guided his cock between your folds, slicking it on your juices before positioning himself at your core. You circled your arms around him, holding back tears when he pushed in, breaking you open with slow, gentle thrusts, his face falling into the crook of your neck, air sucking through his teeth. Muscles from your toes to your head vibrated with ecstasy, nerves singing with joy.

Ben groaned into you when he slipped fully into you, then pulling back out, relishing the drag of your walls on his throbbing length. Grunting, he wrapped you in an embrace, tugging you against him while he slid in again, a choked moan of disbelief caught in his throat. He kissed your neck once, then twice, hips pumping out and in, his pace powerful and gradual, as if he couldn’t help basking in the tight heat of your cunt. Tremors still quaked in your bones, and you wrapped your legs around him, needing him nearer, your lids closing, allowing the tears to slide down your hot cheeks.

He whispered your name in your ear, kissing your throat again, plunging steadily into you. “You feel so good,” he said, “so wet for me…”

If he was intent on liquifying you, it was working. Your limbs were gelatin, without motion, no purpose except to stay curled around this man. Ben’s cock fucked you open, sank deep into your pussy, his tempo quickening. You sniffled, nuzzling against him, content to stay like this forever, maybe die like this, if need be--you couldn’t ever remember feeling this whole, this safe. And as you thought it, another sniffle. But not from you. From Ben.

Whimpering, he rammed into you, speed erratic, like he was trying to drive his entire body into yours, pulling you into his chest, the kyber crystal cutting into your sternum. Your nails rasped across his back, clinging to him when he slid out. Another frantic thrust, and you squeaked, cunt clamping down on his dick, more tears spilling. He echoed you, silencing a sob in your neck, shuddering as he fucked you harder, faster.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry…”

You hushed him, hands diving into his hair, fruitlessly trying to turn his face toward you. He was unyielding, wound around you like wire.

“I’m sorry I left,” he said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all of it--”

“Ben, it’s okay--”

“It’s not!” He gasped, catching his breath, littering your throat and cheek with kisses. “I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve this--”

You squealed when he speared a spot deep inside you. “I forgive you,” you said, “it’s okay--”

“Stop saying that…” he mumbled. “You don’t--you don’t understand…”

“Shh…”

He had slowed by this point, long, languid thrusts pushing into you. “You don’t understand what I want,” he whispered. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart skipped. “You can tell me, Ben…”

Ben hid his nose in the crook of your neck, face wet, breath like smoke. He hadn’t stopped fucking you through his cries, only clutched you tighter, keeping you real in his hands.

“I want...” He sniffled. And then, into your ear, barely escaping his throat: “Let me choke you.”

It was so abrupt, you laughed. “What?” you said, more as a statement than a question. “Is that all?”

He trembled in your arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing his temple. “I know that, Ben,” you said. “I know you would never hurt me.”

He paused, seated inside of you, and pried himself from your shoulder, examining you in doubt. His chin still quivered.

“I mean it,” you said, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I want all of you. Then, and now.” You kissed his nose. “I know Ben Solo. He is not a monster.”

The doubt fell from his face, followed by the anguish, the shame--and filtering in its place was pure, voracious hunger.

“You mean it.”

“I do,” you said. “I want it.”

He pushed up on his palms, hovering over you like a predator. Heart thrashing, you bit your lip, resisting the urge to clench around him. Before his fall, Ben had been passionate, desperate, even rough--but never like this. Never feral. Never animalistic. Never…

Leaning forward, he brushed his mouth over your ear.

“We’ll see how you feel when I’m done with you, princess.”

Never so hot.

Fire flooded your veins, and you whined, the noise cut by his hand pressing down on your throat, squeezing with enough pressure to make you gasp. He smirked, rocking his hips to remind you of the thick length still inside you.

“I’m going to make you cum hard on this cock,” he purred. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, grasping at his wrist.

“Good…”

Ben growled, and slammed into you, forcing a wail from your lungs, silenced by the grip on your neck. He rammed you with his dick again, and again, jolting your bones, until he was pounding you, hips smacking into yours, a snarl of pleasure escaping him.

“You feel incredible,” he said. “There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t thought about fucking your little pussy…” He moved faster, throwing his head back in bliss. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed about cumming inside you…”

“Ben,” you wheezed, overwhelmed with lust. “Ben, please…”

He returned to your ear, nipping it. “You need to cum, princess?”

A deluge of lust, now, drenching you, drowning you. “Yes,” you squeaked out, “yes, please!”

Both hands crushed your throat, Ben’s eyes wild, his hair mussed, and he kept his pace, pumping deep into your slick, hot cunt with ease. His digits twitched--there it was, whirling around your clit, the Force, how you’d missed it--and you were flying, euphoria engulfing you, so fucking close, limbs jerking with pleasure, ready to cinch around his cock.

“Ben…” The pressure on your neck was snug. “Ben, fuck--”

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, spitting out your name, “fuck, yes--” He growled, the Force spinning like a buzzer around your nub, and you snapped, falling apart under him. “That’s right, cum--cum for me, princess…”

White rapture blinded you when you came, straining against the choke, pulsing and milking his cock. Ben squeezed your throat with his climax, keening as his orgasm ravaged him, his hips stuttering, dick spilling jets of cum inside your cunt. He fucked you through it, frenzied in his release, until it slowed, the only sounds left the sloppy noise of his final thrusts.

A low, long groan left him, and he released you, toppling at your side, chasing his breath. You rolled over, staring at him, trying to catch up with your lungs, too. A sheen of sweat encased you both, sticking your skin together, grazing like raw nerves--but you cared little. Next to you was the man you’d loved for almost a decade, the man for whom you’d waited through war, the man who had held your heart and kept it safe, even in the depths of his darkness.

“I love you, Ben,” you said, cupping his cheek. “All of you.”

Ben stared at the ceiling of your tent, chest still heaving. He said nothing, then glanced at your kyber crystal, fogged with sex. “I know.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around you, pressing you flush against his frame. Lethargy hung on your lids, and you struggled to stay conscious, the murky noises of the Resistance’s victory celebration leaking into your tent. Seconds lingered into minutes, his eyes still fixed on the crystal, memorizing its reflections of your flesh. A wriggle of his fingers, and it rose from your neck, twisting in the air.

He laid there with your head nestled into his shoulder, twirling it with the Force. Back and forth, back and forth, a twinkling lullaby. Back and forth, back and forth, until, finally, you fell asleep.

#kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren imagine #ben solo imagine #kylo ren #ben solo #not a scratch #nerd whinings #fanfiction problems #another fix-it fic #because I'll never stop salting #EVER

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Note

i see you’re doing prompts and i love me some angst so #1 (with a dash of #10) for tarlos ?? if you feel in any way inspired by them 👀💕

Of course Jill - anything for you (on your birthday!) Here it is, I hope you enjoy!

If I die before I wake

tarlos || 5k || ao3

Prompt: “stay alive, please.” + “it hurts.”

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Carlos responds to an accident scene that threatens to take everything away from him.

-------

“So, what do you think?”

Carlos looked at his partner, eyebrow raised, “What do I think about going on a double date?”

“Yeah.”

“Me and TK, with you and…”

“Alanna,” Mya provided.

“Right, Alanna. Who you have been on...2 dates with?”

“Three, Reyes. Three dates.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mya shot him a glare, “What?”

“I think you’re up to something, Esquilin.”

“What could I possibly be up to?”

“I don’t know, but I have known you long enough to know that you are usually up to something.”

“You,” Mya said with an accusatory finger pointed at her partner, “are too suspicious, Reyes.”

“Mya,” Carlos said firmly, turning to face her, “what possible reason could you have for wanting to take someone you have been on 3 dates with for a double date with a couple that has been together over a year and knows you so well? There’s an ulterior motive here somewhere and I’m just wondering what it is.”

There is silence in their squad car for several moments as Mya seems to consider how best to answer. But the same moment she opened her mouth, their radio chirped to life. Mya seemed to deflate in relief and Carlos studied her for a moment before reaching for the radio, “This is Officer Reyes.”

“Car 142 respond to a vehicular accident, intersection of S 1st and Cumberland. Be advised that witnesses say one of the involved drivers is likely under the influence.”

Carlos shared a grim look with Mya, who flipped on the lightbar and headed in the direction of the accident scene, “10-4 dispatch, car 142 en route.” He replaced the radio and turned to Mya, “we’re finishing this discussion later.”

“Whatever you say, partner.”

“I mean it, Mya.”

“So an accident, think you’ll get to see your better half?”

“You can try and change the subject all you want but I’m not going to forget.”

She raised an eyebrow at him briefly before turning her gaze back to the road and he rolled his eyes, “No, he’s not working tonight. He actually should be at my place by now, he was going to try to make dinner.”

“Did you check to make sure the fire extinguisher was full?”

“And added a second one.”

She laughed, but any humor faded at the sight of the accident scene as they turned the corner.

Carlos felt dread building in his gut as Mya lost any hint of the playful manner of just a second ago, “Shit,” she said instead, voice low as she slowed their car to a stop at the edge of the scene.

There was a car pinned to the telephone pole on the corner of the intersection. The front end looked relatively fine but the back was a mess. It looked like the other vehicle had come through the intersection at high speed, striking the back of the other car and pinning it to the pole. Carlos grimaced as he climbed out of the cruiser and got a better look. Hopefully no one had been in the backseat; they would have to be lucky to have survived that.

And the driver of the other car was standing outside his car looking perfectly fine if a bit intoxicated, of course.

He turned to Mya as she met him outside their car, “Do you want the drunk or the victim?”

“You took the drunk last time so I guess it’s my turn.”

“Let me know if you need me.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “I can handle this dude.”

He shook his head fondly as she rolled her eyes and they jogged off in their separate directions. He reached the driver’s window and leaned in, giving the man a quick once over.

“Sir,” he asked, “are you hurt anywhere?”

The driver shook his head forcefully, “I’m fine, just some cuts and bruises. My passenger though, I’m an uber driver…”

Carlos felt the dread building as his fears were confirmed.

“Okay sir sit tight, I’m going to go around and see if I can get a better look. The fire department should be here soon and they’ll get you out real quick.”

The driver nodded and Carlos gave him a quick, small smile before he headed to the rear window, carefully brushing glass shards out of the way so he could lean in. He was about to ask the same questions, but the sight before him stole the words and his breath from him.

There was someone in the backseat but it wasn’t just anyone. It was a very familiar someone in a familiar yellow hoodie.

“TK?” he asked, voice breaking. He got no response. He tugged on the door desperately but couldn’t get it to budge.

He swallowed before trying again, “Ty? Can you hear me?”

There were a million sounds surrounding him and not one of them mattered. The only one that did matter, the only voice he needed to hear, stayed silent. He couldn’t even get close enough to check for a pulse even as his heart clenched at the very thought of needing to. He knew he had been staring for too long, he needed to keep moving. He needed to do something, anything. He needed to help TK.

He couldn’t lose him — not now, not ever.

With effort, he pulled his gaze away and glanced around. Mya had cuffed the other driver and was loading him into the back of the cruiser. He called out to her, hoping she didn’t notice the change in his voice. Her eyes found him and even from a distance the despair in his expression must have been clear because her expression shifted and she hurried over.

“Carlos, what—”

But he stepped aside so she could see into the car, clutching the roof of the car for support. She took a look inside and he could pinpoint the moment she identified the trapped figure. She turned to him; expression grim and voice soft, “Carlos…”

“We need to get to him,” he said again, hoping his voice was steadier than it sounded to his own ears, “I couldn’t get the door open.”

“Okay,” Mya said calmly, “we’ll try it together. I’ll use the handle, you grab the doorframe. On 3, we pull.”

Carlos nodded and followed her instructions, putting everything he had into it. Finally, after a few tries, the door gave and they were able to wrench it open. Carlos was in the car in a flash, disregarding the shattered glass crunching beneath him as he moved towards TK, reaching for his neck, feeling for a pulse.

Please don’t let him be dead, please.

The thought was repeated like a mantra in his head, over and over again like a desperate prayer.

The moments it took to find the right spot, for him to feel the tell-tale thrum of life in the familiar neck before him seemed to last forever but eventually — finally — he felt it. A pulse; strong and steady.

He released the breath he had been holding and turned to Mya, “he’s alive, pulse is steady.”

The relief evident on his partner’s face was nearly as palpable as his own, “Okay. See if you can wake him up and maybe give him a once over, I’ll go handle the rest of the scene and notify whatever crew shows up. Just stay with him.”

“Are you…”

“Carlos,” she interrupted him, voice firm and leaving no room for argument, “stay with him. He needs you and I can handle the rest on my own.”

He gave her a grateful smile that she returned before squeezing his arm and disappearing back into the chaos of the scene.

Carlos turned back to the crumpled figure beside him. He reached out a tender hand, carefully running it through TK’s hair, looking for any sign of a head injury. His hand found something wet on the side of his head closest to the door and he pulled it away to find blood. He moved closer, careful not to jostle TK any more than necessary, and located the source; a long but relatively shallow laceration on the side of his head.

“How do you keep getting yourself into these situations, babe?” Carlos asked quietly, more to himself than anything else.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Carlos nearly jumped — he had quite forgotten about the driver in the face of what he had found in the backseat. He looked back over at the driver who had managed to twist enough to get a better look at TK’s predicament. Carlos shrugged but pulled his professionalism back over his countenance, “it’s hard to say with him trapped right now. The fact that he’s not conscious isn’t a good sign, but the way he’s trapped it’s too hard to see what might be wrong. I’m just hoping AFD gets here soon.”

The driver nodded before studying Carlos, “You know him, don’t you?”

Carlos gave him a startled look and the driver simply rolled his eyes, “please, I’ve been stuck in this car. I can hear you back there.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Are you his boyfriend?”

Carlos looked up sharply, never sure how to respond to that. The driver raised his hands in placation, “No judgment, it’s just if you are, he was talking about you right before we crashed.”

Carlos deflated, turning back to TK, “he was?”

“Yeah, said he wanted to surprise you by making a dinner that was actually edible.”

Carlos laughed at that, despite everything, “he’s a man of many talents but unfortunately, I don’t think cooking will ever be one of them.”

“Seems like he likes you a whole lot too,” the driver noted, watching as Carlos ran a hand through TK’s hair.

“That’s good,” Carlos said softly, “because I like him a whole lot too.”

Any further conversation was interrupted by TK stirring. Carlos waited with bated breath, watching him anxiously as he slowly blinked open his eyes. “TK?” he asked softly.

“Carlos?” The word was slurred and quiet, but it was in TK’s voice and Carlos was certain he had never heard anything more beautiful.

“Yeah Ty, I’m here. Can you tell me what hurts?”

TK tried to push himself up but abruptly fell back against the window with a hiss of pain, “Everything?”

Carlos smiles sympathetically, “I believe you, but anything that hurts more than the rest?”

TK considered for a bit before answering, “my head, and my ribs.” He prodded a bit at his chest before wincing, “definitely a few either broken or fractured on the right side.”

Carlos watched as TK placed a hand on his chest as he took a breath, wincing with pain and then letting out a breathy curse. He met Carlos’s anxious expression and explained, “might be flail chest too.”

“Flail chest?”

“When part of the rib cage — usually 3 or more ribs — breaks and becomes detached from the rest of the chest wall.”

Carlos’s eyes widened, “That sounds bad.”

“It’s not ideal,” TK agreed, “but as long as I am careful not to jostle it too much I should be fine until we can get to a hospital, as long as that’s soon. Other than that I’m just kind of one giant bruise.”

“Well, Mya’s in charge so I am sure help will get here soon if she has anything to say about it.”

TK gave him a weak, strained smile before glancing around, “is everyone else okay?”

He looked towards the driver’s seat where the man in question smiled and gave a small wave, “I’m good, just trapped. Mostly worried about you, even more so since you said all that stuff. You a doctor? Med student?”

TK shook his head, “Firefighter.”

“Guess you’re pretty familiar with car accidents then, huh?”

“Yeah, but usually from the other side. I kind of prefer it that way.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

TK smiled at him before turning back to Carlos, “what about the other driver?”

“He’s feeling no pain and has been escorted to the back of our squad car by Officer Esquilin.”

“Great,” TK deadpanned, “just my luck.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed with a sigh, “it kind of is, isn’t it?”

TK smiled at him and then closed his eyes as grimaced in pain, exhaling carefully. Carlos reached out a hand but let it fall, not sure where to touch the other man that would provide comfort and not more pain. Eventually, he opened his eyes and met Carlos’s gaze.

“It hurts,” he admitted, voice low and weak and Carlos’s heart ached to hear it. He reached out again, gently grasping the hand resting at his side and giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’m sure it does, but we’re going to get you out of here. I can hear the fire engine now.”

And not a moment too soon, he thought to himself as the familiar sound of a fire engine approaching cut through the evening.

Outside the car he could hear the flurry of activity as whichever crew had been called arrived and went about the process of gathering gear and getting set up. Carlos stayed by TK’s side the entire time, clasping his hand in his own, “just focus on me,” he told him, “help is on the way.”

He was so focused on TK he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were directly behind him.

“Reyes?”

The voice is familiar but not one Carlos had been expecting to hear. He turned sharply to see Judd Ryder leaning into the backseat.

“Judd?”

“Yeah, we’re going to need you to get out so we can help them. We’ve got it from here.”

“Is the rest of the 126 team here?” he hoped desperately that they were not. As much as their presence would be a comfort and he knows they would move heaven and earth to help TK, it would be far kinder for them to never have to deal with this.

“No, I’m covering for a buddy at the 124. His wife just had a baby so a bunch of us took his shifts for the next few weeks. Still gonna need you to move, kid.”

Carlos swallowed, not sure how to break the news, but he was saved the trouble by TK tuning back into the conversation, “Judd? What’re you doing here?”

Though his voice was weak, it was undeniably TK and Judd froze. He looked at Carlos who shook his head. What was there to say? There was no explanation for this. Judd grimaced and turned his attention back to TK.

“Shit kid, you really got yourself into it this time, didn’t you? Just hold tight brother, we’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Kay,” it was weak, far weaker than it had been a minute ago, and it filled Carlos’s heart with dread.

Judd took a deep, wavering breath before meeting Carlos’s eyes one more time and pulling himself back out of the car, heading back to the captain to report.

“Hang tight Ty,” Carlos told him softly, “this is almost over, I promise.”

“I’m fine Carlos, I’m not worried.”

“You’re a liar, but thanks for trying.”

TK’s answering smile, strained as it was, lifted the slightest amount of pressure from his heart. Two members of the 124 came over to free the driver, who looked back at them before climbing out, “hang in there kid would ya? I’d hate to have ‘dead passenger’ on my record.”

“If I survive this I’ll give you a 5-star review.”

The driver laughed appreciatively before nodding to Carlos and following the firemen away from the scene. Now that there was no other civilian involved, all the focus turned to TK and doing whatever they could to get him out.

Judd appeared at the far edge of the window by TK, “still hanging in there kid?”

But TK didn’t respond, he was too focused on the flurry of activity outside the wrecked car, “wouldn’t it make more sense to approach from the other side so there would be more clearance between the car and the pole?”

“Hey, no backseat rescuing,” Judd chided, “you just relax and let us handle it. Besides, you’re concussed, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But even as he spoke he was studying the scene and he stepped away to speak with the young kid who was setting up the equipment. As Carlos watched the kid nodded and gathered his things before moving to the other end of the car. He glanced back at TK, who was grinning, “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Carlos chuckled fondly and shook his head, running his hand through TK’s hair again, “Judd’s right, you just need to focus on keeping still and letting us know if something doesn’t feel right when we get you moving. He’s got the rest of it under control, he’ll make sure things are done to the 126’s standards.”

No more than a few moments later Judd popped back up at the window, “They’re ready to get started and they want you out, Reyes.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, looking back down at TK, who was still clutching his hand like a lifeline.

“That’s what I told them,” Judd agreed, “so just do your best to stay out of the way. Last thing we need is two victims here.”

Carlos nodded and Judd turned to wave to one of the other firemen, who started up the jaws. It was a painstaking process, the car bent and twisted as it was, but eventually, they found the right spot and the door began to give. Carlos turned to smile at TK — they were one step closer to having him free — when he noticed that his face had gone pale.

“Judd!” he called out to the firefighter before reaching out to examine TK, to see if he could find the problem, “something’s wrong!”

He could hear shouting before the noise of the jaws stopped and Judd peered back into the window, expression tight. Carlos was still studying TK.

“Ty,” he asked, “can you tell me what’s wrong?”

TK shook his head but gestured at his chest before trying to take a gulp of air but only ending up with a grimace of pain for his efforts. Carlos realized what he was trying to say in an instant: he was having trouble breathing.

Judd cursed and leaned back out, calling for the paramedics. His eyes met Carlos’s even as he moved, “I think his lung is punctured, we’re going to need to do this quick and dirty now so we can get him out and get him intubated if need be.” He shifted his gaze down to TK, “this is not going to be pleasant brother, but we’re going to get you the help you need ASAP, alright?”

TK nodded at him and squeezed Carlos’s hand harder. Carlos swallowed and squeezed back, desperate to offer whatever comfort he could.

The next minute passed in a blur. Once they had found a gap they used it to wrench the door open as far as it would go before the paramedics approached to get him prepped and out, quickly but carefully. Carlos climbed out after them, able to step over the seat and console that had pinned TK in before, and joined them, hovering right at the edge; unwilling to get in the way, but unable to stray too far. Not when TK was hurt, not when it was like this.

As he hovered, he heard the paramedic captain curse. “It’s a punctured lung,” he confirmed as he pulled the stethoscope away and relayed instructions to his team, “must have happened when the door shifted, causing the ribs to move and hit the lung. Breath sounds are diminishing, we need to get him out of here fast.”

Everything after that was white noise to Carlos as he found an open space on the ground near TK’s head and kneeled, careful to keep out of the way. He saw one of the paramedics turn to him in the corner of his eye, likely intending to tell him to get lost, but Judd appeared at his side and shook his head.

Satisfied he wasn’t about to be forcibly removed with Judd standing sentry behind him, Carlos leaned down, moving closer to TK.

“Hang in there Ty, please. They’re going to get you help, you just need to hang on a little longer, I promise.”

TK’s eyes met his and though they were clouded in pain, there wasn’t any fear in them. As they held each other’s gaze TK slid his hand across the ground, closer to Carlos who grasped it with his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing it tightly.

“It’s going to be okay,” he repeated but now it was less of a promise and more of a prayer.

TK smiled at him, soft and reassuring, but his eyes began to drift shut.

“No you don’t, stay with me Ty!” Carlos said desperately, the fear that he had been just barely keeping at bay rushing up to engulf him without a second thought. TK’s eyes opened again but Carlos could tell they wouldn’t stay open for long. He leaned closer, lips practically at TK’s ear, “Stay alive,” he begged, “please. I can’t lose you.”

“Breaths are fading,” the paramedic captain announced, “we need to move him now.”

Carlos watched with horror as TK’s eyes slid shut once more and didn’t reopen, no matter how much he pleaded. He watched as the paramedic team scooped him onto a gurney and whisked him to the ambulance, two of them working desperately on CPR as the other rushed around to the driver’s seat.

The ambulance pulled away and Carlos felt as if his very soul had gone with it. He was still here at the accident scene but couldn’t seem to ground himself. He glanced around, taking in all the bits and pieces of the commotion, but most of it just seemed like noise.

He saw Judd speaking to the 124 Captain before stepping to the side and pulling out his phone with a grim expression and somehow Carlos knew just who he was calling. He looked away to see Mya heading towards him, expression cautious.

“Carlos?” she asked, but he knew there was so much more hidden in the two syllables of his name. How are you and how is he and what happened all went unsaid between the two partners.

He didn’t have an answer to any of them, so he just shook his head. She nodded before reaching out her hand to place it gently on his arm, where she gave him a comforting squeeze.

“How about we drop Mr. Inebriated off to be processed and then I’ll get you to the hospital. I’ll call Sarge on the way, let her know.”

Carlos nodded. He knew Mya was worried for him, he knew he should find some way to reassure her, but he had nothing. He felt like a shell; a husk completely cleaned out by the panic and fear and dread that had weighed so heavily on him since he first saw TK in the car. He was drained and the only thing keeping him moving forward was the desperate hope and need for TK to be okay.

If TK was okay, then everything else would be fine.

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

Carlos looked up from his phone when a figure plopped into the chair across from him, “hi stranger.”

“It’s only been a week,” Carlos objected with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah and I always get stuck with the weirdos when you’re out. Thank god it’s not often.” There was companionable silence between the two partners as Mya studied him before speaking, “how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m fine.”

“Why do I not believe that?”

Carlos sighed, “It’s been a lot,” he admitted, “and a very long week. But I’m okay, really.”

“I’ve been worried about you,” she admitted, “we all have been.”

Carlos opened his mouth to respond, but the arrival of another person interrupted the conversation.

“Sorry about that,” TK said as he settled back into the seat at Carlos’s side, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “my dad just wanted to check-in. He’s still not convinced I should be allowed to stand up, let alone leave the house.”

“I can’t say I blame him. You really had me worried there for a little bit.”

“Aw Mya, you do care.”

“That is a vicious rumor that I will deny at all costs.”

He laughed and she grinned at him before softening, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m good, really. A little sore and I won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, but fine. Like I keep telling this one,” he says, shooting a pointed look at Carlos, “and my dad.”

Mya shrugs, “I believe you, but I can’t say I blame them. It was pretty close there for a while. Only you could be on the verge of death and back on your feet a week later Strand, I swear.”

“It’s all the practice,” Carlos said dryly, causing Mya to laugh and TK to roll his eyes.

“Judd is talking about bubble wrap,” he tells Mya.

“And we looked into it. It would be pricey, but worth it,” Carlos declared.

“So Mya,” TK said, turning pointedly away from Carlos, who smirked, “who is this girl you are so insistent we meet?”

Carlos shook his head fondly at the change of subject but didn’t push, instead joining TK in looking at Mya intently.

Mya rolled her eyes at the pair of them before taking a sip of her coffee, “Her name is Alanna, and I just wanted to see how you guys got on with her.”

Now Carlos raised an eyebrow and gave her a calculating look, “that sounds like some commitment territory Esquilin, you must really like her.”

“I do,” Mya admitted, “I know we’ve only been on 4 dates so far, but we talk all the time and I just really enjoy being with her in a way I haven’t enjoyed being with anyone else. Plus, you know, other stuff.”

TK and Carlos shared a knowing look and a smile as Mya barreled on, “It just seems really fast so I guess I wanted a second opinion? And to see how she fits in with my friends.”

“We’re your friends?” TK asked with a grin.

“Unfortunately the closet ones I have.”

Now that the topic of Alanna had been broached, not even their usual banter seemed to bring out the playful side of Mya they were accustomed to. She kept biting her lip and tapping her fingers against her mug as she shot repeated glances at the door.

“What are you worried about?” TK asked her eventually.

“I’m not worried,” she responded quickly, to which TK only raised an eyebrow.

“You’re practically a poster child for anxiety at the moment trust me; it takes one to know one. What’s up?”

Mya was quiet for a few moments before she explained, “I like her a lot, but I can’t help but think that maybe we are rushing into things, that maybe we are moving too fast.”

“There’s no one ‘right way’ to start a relationship,” Carlos reminded her gently. “I mean, look at us — you know what a mess we were getting started. We didn’t do anything the way we ‘should have’ but I think we’re pretty solid, right?”

“If by solid you mean, ‘nauseatingly perfect,’ then yeah. You are.”

“Then if you like this girl and she likes you, it doesn’t matter if it seems too fast or how many dates you’ve been on, all that matters is that you care about each other and want to try and start something together.”

The look Carlos was giving Mya was sincere and she gave him a soft smile in return, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand in thanks. She looked to TK a moment later, “You know, you’re pretty lucky to have found this one. Even if he is my partner and I am therefore required to give him shit, he’s pretty great.”

TK turned to look at Carlos, who met his gaze with a matching smile.

“He is something, isn’t he?” he agreed.

Mya smiled at the pair of them, but before she could say anything something behind them caught her attention and her smile grew even wider.

“She’s here,” she told them, rising from her chair, “I’m going to go grab her and get her a drink. Play nice when she gets here, please?”

“As if we could ever do anything but.”

Mya rolled her eyes and swatted lightly at TK’s head as she walked by, heading towards the blonde woman with a warm smile just inside the doorway of the coffee shop.

“Can you believe that was us not too long ago?” TK asked as they watched Mya greet her date with a kiss on the cheek.

Carlos shook his head, “that was never really us. We didn't exactly go about this in the usual way. By the time we got to awkward dates with friends we already knew each other’s friends and each other. Kind of an interesting parallel though — you were on medical leave then too.”

“Is that supposed to be a jab about my ‘danger magnetism’ Reyes?”

“It is. Interesting term, by the way. A TK Strand original?”

“A Judd Ryder one, patent pending.”

“Of course,” Carlos agreed with a nod. His teasing tone faded as he studied TK, reaching out to run a gentle hand across the still healing cut to the side of his head. The stitches had been removed a few days ago, but he knew with painful certainty that underneath TK’s button-up was another row of sutures, a souvenir from the surgery to piece the broken bits of his ribs back together. Soon these would fade just as the scar on his collarbone had and soon they would just be another reminder of what almost was; of the all-consuming fear that they might have lost this, that Carlos could have lost him.

“What are you thinking?” TK asked him softly, studying Carlos’s expression.

“How much trouble you are.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, but you’re worth it.”

TK’s face broke out into a wide and beaming grin, “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed, “you’re worth everything to me.”

[read on ao3]

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos fic #my writing #tuserjamie #usermaximus #userjilly #userkimmy #tuserpaige #jazzyjess #aanathema

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witchybluedeity · 3 years

Text

Not Like This Part One

I blame @godsliltippy, @tsarinatorment, @gumnut-logic and @flyboytracy this entire idea.

John appearing mid-Pendergast marathon made Gordon jump way more than it should have, and the smirk on Scott's face proved the pilot had seen it. "John! It was getting to the good part!"

"We have a situation."

That got his attention. Within seconds Gordon and Scott both switched from casual brothers to International Rescue operatives, a skill they learned in WASP and the Air Force. "What's up John?"

"There's a whale beached on a sandbank off of Tasmania's West Coast, the caller said its name is… Gatsby?"

"You're kidding!”

John shook his head, bringing up the image of the beached whale. "Nope."

Gordon grinned and stood up. “I'm on my way!”

“Gordon, we don't rescue animals-”

“Scott, you don't get it! This is Gatsby! He's a research whale! He helps scientists and marine biologists monitor how much marine life take care of the ocean! They've already learned how whales are essentially the hearts of the ocean. They're a key participant in making sure the ocean's biological carbon pump is working efficiently by absorbing the dissolved atmospheric carbon from the surface and sequestering it to the sea floor. Since they're one of the largest marine animals, they can absorb up to 33 tons of carbon when they reach old age! They're helping the planet!" The aquanaut concluded his speech with a challenging glare towards Scott, who sent back a glare of his own.

"We're not an animal rescue association, Gordon. We rescue humans."

"Humans are animals too, Scott! International Rescue will rescue Gatsby, whether I have to go alone or not!" Gordon raced towards the small aquarium where the flooring concealed his chute, determined to postpone the argument until he wasn't in a hurry.

Scott had other ideas. "You can't be serious!"

"La la la, I can't hear you!" He nearly slammed his hand onto the hidden scanner in the class, impatiently waiting for the walls to surround him and take him to his awaiting 'Bird. "I'm going. And I dare you to try to stop me."

The venom in his brother's voice caused Scott to flinch despite everything, and he let out a heavy sigh, facepalming. Stubborn brothers.

The now-agitated aquanaut folded his arms tightly over his chest before turning to change into his uniform, releasing a heavy sigh. “Goddammit Scott.” Letting his training drop, his excited marine-loving side took over and a smile blossomed on his face. “I’m saving the Gatsby! Nothing could go wrong!”

The mechanical arms helped him finish suiting up, and soon Gordon was taking a deep breath and diving into Four’s tank with eagerness he usually reserved for ocean swims. Thunderbird Four’s airlock opened for her pilot the moment he hit the water, and as always he patted her outer hull in thanks before pulling himself in.

“Get ready girl.” He grinned as he positioned himself in the seat, flipping into the control room. “We’re saving one of the most famous whales.” Starting up her systems was mandatory, but it sent a ripple of calmness through him, as though she was reassuring him. As though she could sense his nervousness prior to every mission.

One of the many reasons he loved her.

“Thanks girl.” With a smile, Gordon patted her dash, watching the tank door slide open to reveal the ocean surrounding Tracy Island. “Thunderbird 4 is go.”

“F.A.B Thunderbird 4. Professor Shikund is going to meet you there.”

“Professor Shikund?! No way!” Gordon couldn’t help bouncing in his seat a little, drawing a smile from his older brother. “You can tell him I’ll be right there!”

“Your ETA is half an hour.”

Gordon fell still as he considered the time frames, biting his lip in worry. “How long has Gatsby been out of water John?” The other end was quiet for a moment.

“The Professor wants to talk to you personally. Should I-?”

“Patch him in John! Patch him in!” So what if he was fanboying? He’d read everything about the Professor, and had dreamt of meeting him.

Not even thirty seconds later, a new voice filled the cabin. “International rescue?”

Gordon nearly squealed, grin splitting his face in two. “Professor Shikund!!”

The Professor chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. “I’m guessing you the marine expert of the team?”

“I wouldn’t say expert-” The aquanaut flushed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just have a great interest in what happens below sea level.”

“That’s an understatement” John piped up, his hologram still active next to the Professor’s.

Shikund’s lips quirked into a small grin. “As much as I’d like to have a conversation with you, I currently have a beached whale waiting for rescue.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly in remembrance. In his excitement to talk to the Professor, he’d forgotten about the reason he was headed to the sandbank. How had he forgotten about that? “Right, right! Gatsby. How long has he been out of the water for? I’m twenty minutes out.”

“Gatsby’s been out here for approximately two hours and thirty-four minutes. He can only be out for another fifty-three before he perishes.”

“Right, okay.” Gordon reached up above the viewing glass and flicked a few switches, narrowing his eyes slightly. “If I push it I can be there in thirteen minutes. Four won’t like it, but a life is a life, and we save them.” With a flick of his wrist, the aquanaut swiped John away when the red-head opened his mouth to comment.

He’d known his brother long enough to recognize John was going to verbalize something similar to Scott. He didn’t need unnecessary comments.

“That’ll give us forty minutes to get him back into the ocean.” The professor didn’t like it, and neither did Gordon. It was barely any time, and he only had Thunderbird Four’s gear. They would have to improvise.

“Then we’ll save him in thirty.” Determination filled his voice as the aquanaut pushed his ‘Bird’s engines, plans already being formulated. One thing he knew he could try was using the robotic arms to either dig away the sand or gently pull the whale back into the water.

A frown appeared at the thought. Both options could be dangerous towards Gatsby’s health, which was something Gordon wanted to avoid at all costs, but they didn’t have many options. Thunderbird Four wasn’t geared up like her sisters. “What equipment do you have with you now?”

“I don’t have much that’ll be useful I’m afraid, I only came out here to check up on Gatsby.”

A heavy sigh left Gordon at the confession, one hand leaving the controls to run through blond hair. “This won’t be easy.” But then again, nothing they ever did was. Even the easiest missions sometimes took a turn for the worst.

Scott at home while his brothers were all out on missions proved that.

“But can we do it?”

Gordon felt his heart stop. What if they couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t do it? He’d come out unprepared, carrying only the minimal gear. Something an IR operative never did. Something an ex-WASP Lieutenant never did.

But he knew someone he could depend on. Leaving the professor’s question unanswered for the moment, the aquanaut touched the IR symbol on his baldric. “Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two, are you there?”

It was quiet for a moment before his brother responded. “This better be important Gordon, I’m en-route to a hospital with injured victims in cargo.”

Wincing slightly, phantom pain momentarily spiked through his back. He’d known Virgil had been sent to a damaged ship in the South Atlantic, but he’d opted to stay behind. It was a busy day, and Gordon knew his brother could handle it, especially since the GDF had also been dispatched to help out. “Anything bad?”

“Nothing that’ll keep them hospitalized for long. What do you need?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a stage-whispered “Lucky bastards” that would earn him a scolding if Grandma heard. “Those pods still functional? Might need one.”

“Dear brother mine, I’m not heavy-handed. I’ll be ten minutes dropping these guys off, then I’ll join you. What’s your position?”

“One time! One time! And I’m headed to the West Coast of Tasmania, twenty minute fly from your location.” He wasn’t mentioning how he’d worked with Scott to keep on eye on their brothers. “Forty minute time slot already, gonna need a land pod but keep it watertight, it might get a bit wet.” Narrowing his eyes, Gordon could see the seafloor beneath him slowly rising, a sign he was nearing land.

“What’s the situation?”

“Beached science whale, he’s an important one Virg.” The hesitance in Virgil’s response sent a wave of irritation through his veins. A life was a life!

“Scott’ll have your hide.”

“He can go choke on Grandma’s food for all I care.” And right now, he really didn’t. Scott was wrong, they did save animal lives. They’d never specified what lives they saved in all the years International Rescue had been operating, so why suddenly start now? ‘Because Scott is already riled up from being grounded’ was the answer in the back of his mind, but Gordon ignored it.

“Ouch Gords.” Virgil’s sigh was audible over the comms, reaching up to flick switches above the visual, a sure sign he was changing altitude. “Don’t chew him out, he’s just aggravated.”

“Oh, and I’m not? You try dealing with his grumpy ass while everyone else is out for a good six hours and see how aggravated you are.” The fact the two brothers had grown up dealing with each other while he, John and Alan had strayed to their own paths passed over him.

“Brother issues?” The professor queried, amusement clear in her expression when Gordon startled for the second time that day, not that he’d admit it to anyone still. “I know how you feel.”

Gordon frowned, head cocking to one side. “You do?”

“Veterinarian Harley Shikund-”

“He’s your brother?! Do you realize how many injured animals I’ve taken to him?!” He could hear Virgil snickering beside Shikund, but Gordon paid no attention.

“Oh I’m aware, he’s always mentioning an International Rescue operative bringing in injured animals for him to check over. Says it keeps him wondering what you’re going to bring him next.”

Virgil’s hologram blinked out, and Gordon bounced in his seat.

“When I saw Gatsby in trouble, that’s why I called. I knew this animal loving operative could help.” Shikund smiled, patting something behind her, most likely the beached Gatsby. The soft clicks that sounded through the comm unit confirmed it was the distressed whale.

Gordon nearly melted at the communication, and his determination to help Gatsby grew just that bit more. “Tell Gatsby I’ll be there in three minutes. Then we can get started helping back into the ocean.”

“You got it. Don’t get too close though, or you’ll be needing a tow. The sandbank rises fast.”

“F.A.B Professor, see you soon.” Cutting the connection, Gordon allowed himself a deep, happy sigh. First the Pendergasts, now Harley and Professor Shikund. He was meeting all his idols in this line of work. Sitting up with a big smile, he decreased his speed in preparation. It’d take Thunderbird Four one minute longer to get there, but he didn’t exactly want to get her beached alongside Gatsby.

That’d be fun to explain to Virgil.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #story #Thunderbird Four #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Gatsby the Whale #Professor Shikund

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