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kaitsawamura · 3 years

Text

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

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Can you do a soulmate Stucky x reader? I feel like you would write that so well, especially how you portrayed bucky in "are you mad at me" was so soft. The soulmate version would be so cute

Summary || Bucky and Steve meet their soulmate, which they had no idea existed.

Warning/content || fluff, a small explicit scene, fighting. Soulmate AU.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve rogers

I got a little carried away, but enjoy ❤️ not edited or beta read but I'm sleepy 😴

Bucky and Steve have had each other from the moment they have met. Imaging their surprise, being two little boys from Brooklyn seeing colors, something the two agreed to hide, pending the time period.

It was different now, a different time. They were accepted and while both of them loved each other, so very much, especially through the mind control, fighting each other, then for each other. They always knew something was missing.

A color, maybe even two, three. A part of them missing but they both collectively came to the conclusion that it was just that. Some missing colors, it happens sometimes.

It happens when they least expect it.

After Thanos, after Tony finally deciding to leave that kind of life behind, buying a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of the city. A home to grow old in, be together for the first time since before the war started but only one thing prevented that.

The house was a disaster, gutted to the foundations, no running water, green moss outside covered the whole house, the lawn completely out of control. For Bucky it was a hard no, it was a dump but the moment Steve fluttered those ridiculously long lashes, how could he say no?

So here they are, sweating on this 90 degree day, putting up new dry wall with no air-conditioning.

"What color should it be?" Steve asks, glancing to his dark haired lover, taking notice of his now shirtless appearance. Bucky let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe we should get all of the walls up first."

Steve clicks his tongue, "I like the color green, like a nice pastel mint green."

"Whatever you want, honey." Bucky wasn't too picky, besides whatever made Steve happy, made him happy.

"Hello?" A sweet, feminine voice came from the kitchen. The doors left open because of the heat, there was nothing much in here anyways.

Steve pulls away from his task, pulling his shirt over his head to wipe his forehead with it. "Come in, we are in the kitchen."

Bucky wasn't too alarmed, Steve had told him previously that he hired a someone to make up the yard, nothing too fancy but the both of them were completely clueless when it came to plants, or gardens period.

"Quite a project you have going on here, Mr. Rogers." No doubt taking in the half gutted house along the way. While they have never met, they spoke on the phone briefly about his wants.

"You have no idea, Hun."

The woman looks around the kitchen first, noticing the freshly painted cabinet, the smell a dead giveaway, half eaten burgers thrown to the side on a small, make shift table with barely enough room to fit.

At first glance towards the man she notices the sharp jawline, defined but soft feature of the blonde as she greets him with a smile which soon drops in confusion as small dots of color appear. Stormy blue eyes with a full beard, Steve's mouth dropping agape as he notices the splirts of color - the missing colors for 106 years finally appear.

Bucky notices the tension in the room, shifting his attention from the wall to Steve, noticing how intensely he's staring, Bucky follows the line of vision and meets sweet eyes.

She's hit with another line of color, different from Steve's but now there's no more gray hue, bright yellows and blues. The outside is suddenly so bright and Bucky mouth drops.

This cannot be happening.

They sit there and stare for what seems like hours.

"I - ugh.." she starts, "What is happening?"

***

Sometimes life just throws curve balls, like finding out that your soulmate or in this cause soulmates are two, one hundred year old super soldiers who have already been in love with each other for over a decade.

The pull is already strong, nature intended for these souls to be together until death due part and honestly Bucky could feel it. With Steve he was used to the urge of wanting to have him close, kiss him every free minute he has but with the woman in front of him, it's new.

He doesn't even know her name, watches the way she nervously flickers from Steve's gaze to his own. She's beautiful.

Strong but delicate features, the curve of her nose is cute, cupid lips are so full... kissable. He can't stop staring, even with Steve and her in the mist of conversation. The make shift table cleared of all prior mess, Buck and Steve have to share a chair, which is quite comical, seeing two giant supersoldier try to share a small, old, dinning room seat.

Bucky's metal fingers twitch, metal plate click and whirl to life as he tights to urge to map her face out with his fingers. His heart is beating so fast, filled with so much... Love? Joy?

No matter how much Steve and Bucky try to hide it.. deep down they always knew, something was missing and in this case, someone.

"You're beautiful." The words catch both her and Steve off guard, Bucky blushes red something terrible but the sweet smile defuses the fire.

Well until she says something back, "You are too."

His whole face is hot and Steve reaches over to affectionately rub the back of his shoulder. Of course Steve was calm, he always is.

He handles things with lots of thought and understanding, while Buck is more hot headed, acts on the moment.

***

"It doesn't feel right." Bucky comments, watching from the window to insure she safely gets into the car. Steve sighs, by the time they're done talking darkness has filled the house. Steve affectionately squeezes the brunette's bicep, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"I know Bucky. This is a lot for her, for us. She needs to take time and reflect on this. She'll come to us when she's ready."

Bucky knows nothing then her name, and love for plants but chews at his bottom lip nervously. She's too far, the bond pulls at his heart strings. Now bonded forever. "What if she never comes back?"

"She will."

***

A few days pass, the kitchen is finally done, new appliances, new china and kitchen fully stocked. Steve is making something for Dinner - it smells amazing while Bucky starts painting the walls of the lifeless living room.

It's bare, not even something to sit on but no doubt with the stamina of two super soldiers it will be done by next week.

The knock on the front door is unexpected, but Bucky replies quickly. "I got it, Stevie!"

He expects some older, much wrinkly neighbor to be complaining about the noise of the nail gone or something this late at night. His mouth drops, a little shocked at the sight of her.

A very formal sitting dress, long and black, dips into a sweetheart neckline, the valley of her breasts easily visible. Hair is thrown into a neat updo, sexy and sleek.

Bucky clears his throat. "Hi." He squeaks out, feeling like a total idiot as he watches her nervously shift her weight from one heel to the other.

"Hi, I was in the area. A wedding for one my clients, thought I'd come say hello." Bucky wants to shake his head in disbelief that something so beautiful, just like Steve is made for him.

The universe sculpted and made two beautiful, breath taking human beings to be his and it's overwhelming. She's so pretty it's alarming.

It was a good excuse, the truth but not the real reason she stopped by. How could she tell them that they have been on her mind none stop? It physically hurts to be away for so long.

"Who is it, Buck?" Steve mumbles, interrupting the thick tension between the two.

"Come in, doll." Bucky's helps her with the jacket that lays over his shoulders, mentioning his head towards the direction of the kitchen, where his other lover is.

Steve is stunned none the less, he at least expected a few more days. Also, feeling much like Bucky, amazed by the radiating beauty.

He decides to play it cool, dimples forming with a breath taking smile. "Do you like spaghetti?"

Hours pass, time moves so fast with conversation, and adding wine to the mix surely didn't help.

The trio once again in the kitchen, but this time each have a chair, a new, more comfortable dinning set.

"You got this done fast. It's beautiful." She comments, "Colors are beautiful, I guess I have you two to thank for that."

Bucky shifts in his seat, the glass of wine is useless but still finds himself sipping from it. Her eyes are red, watery with a slight buzz.

"Do you feel it?" The question has both Bucky and Steve look at each other, watching her teary eyes as she presses a hand to sooth the ache in her chest. "It hurts, it hurts to be away. All week."

"It's normal." Steve answers just above a whisper, his next words make Bucky's bottom lip quiver. "I felt it every day for the last 5 years, Bucky was gone."

Bucky had never thought about it - there hasn't been enough time to. It's only been a month later since the return and it never occurred to him what Steve has gone through.

"Steve.." He starts, tears kiss his waterline as his fingers run through the blonde's hair. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't know, I -."

"Couldn't prevent it Buck. It happened but you're here now and.." Steve turns his attention towards the girl, tears slip past her eyelids. It's for Steve, for Bucky.. all the pain and suffering they've been through. "Hey, don't cry, it's alright beautiful."

It's feels right, despite barely knowing the man, nothing feel more right then being pulled into his chest as a large metal hand comforts her in a different way, rubbing the loose strands of hair as he murmurs. "We've got you now, you're our other half."

***

Months have past from that day. The house is finally done, everything they could have imagined with the additional of an extra tooth brush in the cup that sits on the bathroom sink, a pile of fuzzy blankets at the bottom of the bed and a five year old chocolate lab. Steve didn't mind much, he's always loved dogs, Bucky on the other hand...

"Alright, alright, Maverick." Bucky huffs, grocery bags in hand as the dog excitedly nuzzles his legs, following him throughout the house like it wasn't only an hour ago he's seen him. Once putting the bags down, hears the whine, big brown eyes staring up at him. Bucky sighs, dropping to a knee before petting the pup's head. "Alright you mutt, don't tell anyone about this."

"Too late, pal." Bucky jumps, hearing the amusement in Steve's voice, followed by the giggle of the woman that peers out from behind him. Wrapping her arms around Steve before testing her head against his shoulder.

"Caught you red handed, you love Mav." Bucky grumbles at her words, feeling two smaller hands wrap around his waist as a head falls into his chest. He presses a soft kiss into her hair before taking in the blonde that barely fits through the doorway he leans against.

Bucky's free hand reaches out, mentioning him closer but as she's soon finds herself in the middle of a super soldier sandwich. "Hi, baby." Bucky presses a kiss to the blonde's lips.

"Hi, pal."

***

"It's only one mission. That's it, we will be in and out." Steve promises, not liking the way his girls face twist into a worried expression.

Heavy eyes, lower lip sticking out to pout. "What if something happens? If you get hurt? Or if they find you, Bucky?"

"I told you, Hydra is gone, honey." Bucky's large hands sooth over her tight shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of her upper traps.

"No. You still have nightmares at least three times a week. This can't be good for you. And you." She turns her attention back towards Steve, "Barely sleep four hours a night. You carry the fault on your shoulders, you don't need anymore. I don't want you two to go."

"We don't have a choice. They were my family once, I owe this to them." Steve didn't miss the way her lips moves to form a snarl, not sparing another glance as she makes a b-line for the stairs.

Bucky sighs, leaning against the wall. "She's going to be mad at us." Rubbing his chest with hopes to ease the burn.

The bond pulls at their hearts, a slow, painful punishment for their actions.

They return two weeks later, tired, just wanting to see their girl. The moment they walk into the house they look at each other with will wild eyes, heart pumping as they fear the worse. The dog, the annoying wiggling tail that would bark is one where to be found, something is wrong.

It's alarming. "Where is that freaking mutt?"

Steve calls her name, but there is no answer. Bucky and him are searching the house, ascending the stairs, opening the bedroom door with a deep sigh of relief.

The stupid dog takes up half of the bed, but is cuddled into his owner. Arm draped around the ball of fur, amount as long as her.

The dog lifts his head, a little tail waggle as Steve stretches his ears, lowering to his knees and laying his top half over the bed to press loud, audible kisses to his ears. "Good boy, protecting our girl while we are gone."

When morning comes she notices the dog is still pressed against her, licking small stripes against her cheeks. "Have to go out, buddy?"

She barely makes it five steps before tripping over two rather large bodies, sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor. Bucky groans and Steve's eyes flicker open.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Wanted you to sleep pretty girl. Mav was taking up all the room and you looked like an angel." Bucky hums in agreement despite his eyes being closed.

"Mmm, well it's all free now." It's short, simple but the sarcastic tone has Bucky's eyes flickering to meet his boyfriend's. They both sigh, staring up at the ceiling, knowing it's going to be a long day.

And it is. She's does whatever she can to get away from them, only answers with short replies to the point Bucky can't take it anymore.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tries again but she doesn't acknowledge him, eyes stayed glued to the book. He gets fed up, metal plates click as artificial appendages run over the binding and pull it from her grasp.

"Give it back, James."

He cringes at the name, a displeased frown wears his face. "No, you have to talk to us."

"No."

"You're bring a brat." Bucky starts, watching her expression change from annoyed to anger, wrinkles of frustration pinch between her eyebrows.

"Buck - don't say that to her." Steve comments, it's his fault, he's the one who said yes without confiding in her first.

"She is, it's over with now. She has no right to be this mad."

"No right?" Her chest fills with emotion as a humourless chuckle causes both men to stiffen. "No right? Huh Buck? I sat here for two full weeks, no communication, nothing while the two of you are out there fighting God knows what after you swore, promised you would always be with me. Don't promise me forever if you're just going to throw yourself in danger! You're going to die and leave me, or worse! Both of you will."

No one says a word, only watch as her chest rises and falls with deep, heavy pants despite the tears that rolls past her eyes lashes.

"Honey, I'm sorry -."

"I don't want to hear it James, and you." She turns towards Steve, fire in her soul. "I thought you would understand, more then him, considering it has happened to you."

She leaves the room without another word, Buck turns towards Steve, watching the way he fights the tears that gather. The pain of loosing Bucky is still so fresh, "She's right Buck, we fucked up."

"I know, I know." He mumbles into Steve's shoulder, pulling him close.

***

"You're so good to me, sweet girl." Bucky moans as she shifts her hips against him, the blunt end of his cock hitting the spot inside her that makes her squeal for more.

Large hands squeeze her hips as Steve leans over to find his boyfriend's lips, kissing him through the gasps and whines of their girl's name as she circles her hips around Bucky.

Steve's hands pull at his hair, lips trailing from his lips, down his cheeks before nipping at his jaw.

"How does he feel honey?"

"So good, Stevie." For a second he's in a trance, watching the way her face contours with pleasure and the pain of her third orgasm well on its way.

Steve lays next to Buck, hand wrapping around his own heaviness between his legs as he stokes it, switching between her face of pleasure to Bucky's, who bites his lip to suppress a moan.

It's short lived as hips stutter against her own, coating her walls with his warm cum.

Steve barely gives her time to recover, positioning her on his hands and knees before hovering over her ear and nibbling on it. "My turn, honey."

***

Her hands nervously shake, the kitchen table is all set up, dinner is ready but at the moment she doesn't have an appetite.

Between this morning sickness, the overall change her body is under going, food makes her sick. The opening of the front door makes her sit up straight, sucking in a deep breath.

Two voices conversationing in the hall, "I thought I said for you to lock the door when we leave." Buck is clearly annoyed, it's been a long day but Steve rubs his shoulders, mumbling something incoherent.

Upon entering the kitchen, they both grow worried. Face drained of color, red blotchy eyes with shaky hands.

"Hey, hey." Steve drops to his knees in front of her seat in an instant, hands curling around her wrist as worried steel blue eyes follow his stance, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "What is it? What happened?"

"I'm pregnant." She pauses, "I'm scared, I'm scared. What if someone comes for you? How are we supposed to raise a baby? What if it has the serum, will it ever be safe?"

The questions fill Bucky with dread, how much though put into every sentence, every word is like a new hit of pain to his body but he stays strong. For his girl, he leans forward, wiping the tears away from discolored cheeks. "Everything is going to be fine babydoll, you're going to be fine, our baby is going to be fine."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fatws bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve x bucky #steve x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

Text

Something ‘Bout You (Biker Natasha x Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: Hey this is a new series! I’ve been meaning to write something for her for a while now so here ya go enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST

MCU MASTERLIST

NATASHA ROMANOFF MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE FREE AND ENCOURAGED

SUMMARY: After Wanda announces her engagement a familiar face returns into your life.

“(Y/n)!”

You heard the familiar chime of the doorbell and the familiar excited voice of your friend fill the relatively empty store. You whipped your head to her just in time to see her barrelling toward you and captured you in a bone crushing hug.

“Whoa there Wands,” You said as you returned the hug, “did something happen or are you just that happy to see me?”

Wanda quickly released you from her vice grip, “oh nothing much happened,” Wanda paused before holding up her left hand, “except this.” On her left hand on her ring finger sat a beautiful vintage ring.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim smiling as you grab her hand to get a closer look at the ring, it was simple in design but it really suited Wanda. ‘When did this happen?!”

“Last night,” Wanda reveals happily her smile never deterring, “Vis and I were watching reruns of the Dick Van Dyke Show, I told him how Mary’s ring was beautiful and next thing I know he asks ‘is it as beautiful as this ring’ next thing I know he’s down on one knee with the ring in his hand asking me to marry him.”

“I’m so happy for you and Vis.” You congrat Wanda as you and her continue to talk about her engagement for a few more minutes.

“Actually Vis and I were planning on going to the city tonight to celebrate, are you busy?” Wanda asks. You take a quick look at your calendar finding nothing but closing the store on the agenda for tonight.

“Nope,” You respond, “just have to close the store.”

“Close early and Vis and I will pick you up,” Wanda said, “We’re bringing Pietro, Steve, Bucky, and Monica with us.”

You hesitate for a bit, but you take one look into Wanda’s pleading eyes, the same eyes that have gotten you into more than your fair share of trouble since highschool, next thing you know you’re nodding your head in agreement.

Wanda lets out a small squeal before enveloping you once again in a small hug before saying goodbye and that Pietro will pick you up by seven.

As you continue about your day, stacking books and working the register you start to wonder when the last time you actually had a date was.

During the slow rush you decide to check your calendar again. You flip through each page until finally you land three months prior where you had plans to meet up with the local coffee barista at some bar you can’t remember the name of. What you do remember is that the date ended with you buying a half quart of ice cream and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

You check the clock and check the store to find it empty. You decide now would probably be a good time to close and to start getting ready for the night in the city with Wanda and the rest.

You turn the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and push all thoughts of dating to the back of your mind.

---

You had just slipped your shoes on when you heard Pietro knock on your door in the familiar pattern he’s done since high-school.

You answer the door to reveal Pietro. You always thought he had looked handsome in that mischievous way. But when he wears that white button up and slacks with his hair gelled back he is a special type of handsome.

“Well damn don’t we look fancy tonight?” You say as Pietro noticeably checks you out in the same appreciation. You did a small turn in your black dress that fell just mid thigh.

“And you don’t look too bad yourself Princeza,” Pietro said as he offered his arm in an overdramatic gentlemanly style. Which you responded in kind, laughing slightly as you made sure to lock the door behind you before finally heading out.

---

You were back in your parents backyard, sitting in that hammock with a book in your hands. Nancy Drew had wormed her way into eleven year old you’s heart, with all of her adventures and detective skills.

Just as you were about to reach the climax of the book you heard a familiar voice.

“Whatcha reading today?” You look away from the book and spot a familiar blue haired girl the same age. She was the neighbor that moved in about three years ago, Natasha, who quickly became your best friend.

“Nancy Drew,”

“Again?”

“There’s more than one Natty.” You responded, next thing you know the book is lifted from your hands and Natasha is hovering over you with the book in her hands.

“Naaat.” You whine as you try to reach for the book only to have her expertly move it away from you.

“C’mon,” Natasha says as she makes her way to the bushes separating your yard and hers, “adventure awaits.”

You struggle a little as you make your way out of your hammock and through the lush bushes to Natasha who slips through the crack in between.

“Nat,” you warn lightly.

“I promise I’ll give you the book back,” Natasha promises, “but first we go on an adventure! Grab your bike and meet me out front!”

“Where exactly is this adventure?”

“Just grab your bike, chatty cathy!”

You hear her footsteps rush over to her bike as you rush to yours.

By the time you let your parents know you’ll be riding your bike and get to the front of your house Natasha is already waiting for you.

Together you both rode your bikes until finally settling on a clearing near the local park. There was this big oak tree and in front of it a huge rock as well covered in green moss.

For a while both you and Natasha played by either climbing on the rock and proclaiming yourselves rulers of the land, climbing the tree, playing pretend in the most kid way possible.

However you would catch glimpses sometimes, you didn’t know what, but it made you worry for her. Like how sad she looked, or scared.

Finally, after being worn out by playing you both lay on the grass beneath you and watch as the fireflies began to dance around the big oak looking like thousands of moving stars.

You were enjoying the bit of peace and silence when you felt her hand hold yours. You look over and see the blue haired girl still staring at the millions of fireflies with a smile on her lips.

“Thank you for being my best friend.” She said gently as you looked away from her and continued watching the fireflies dance, until the sun finally set and it was time to go home.

She never did give that book back.

---

“Princeza, we're here.” You hear the familiar accented voice say. You slowly open your groggy eyes to see the glittering lights of the city.

“How long was I out?”

“An hour.”

“So the whole car ride,” You say, you could see Pietro nod from the driver's side, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I was asleep the whole car ride, you were probably bored.”

“No, I wasn’t bored,” Pietro said, “I know you haven’t been sleeping much because of the store.”

Here it comes.

“You need to start working less Princeza,” Pietro continued concerned, “you spend all your waking hours at the store, tending to your books, and life is going to pass you by.”

“Pietro-”

“I don’t mean to be harsh or rude,” Pietro quickly added, “it’s just I see you all the time at the store and nowhere else lately. I get that the store is demanding, but just try to make some time for yourself. Promise me?”

You look at him and can’t refuse.

“I promise.”

You can start relaxing tonight.

---

You came to quickly realize that clubbing really wasn’t your thing.

A pile of random sweaty bodies ground on each other on the dance floor to music that hurt your eardrums.

It wasn’t that you were judging anyone for liking this atmosphere, it just wasn’t your cup of tea, you preferred to stay on the sidelines and watch your friends dance.

And the full bar proved that you weren’t the only one.

You had looked away for a second to order a beer when you spotted someone familiar.

It was dark save for the flickering lights that illuminated her every once in a while. You couldn’t place where you knew her but you knew that you knew her. It was in the way she walked with a certain grace and her eyes were sharp enough to cut through you and you imagined her tongue was the same way.

She must have noticed you staring because the next thing you know she’s staring right at you. Your eyes lock and that’s when it hits you.

You didn’t recognize her without her blue hair.

Natasha.

You panic and turn back to the bar to order that beer you were going to order about five minutes ago. You mentally beat yourself up, if you didn’t look like a creep before you definitely did now.

You were so busy mentally assaulting yourself that you didn’t notice the redhead sauntering her way to you and sit on the empty barstool next to you.

“Well if it isn’t Nancy Drew.”

You turn your head and see Natasha there beside you. Her hair was shoulder length and no longer blue. Now her hair was it’s natural elegant red color, her blue eyes sharper than you remember as well as her cheekbones. You noticed hints of tattoos peeking out from the collar and sleeve of her leather coat.

“You never did return that book.”

You both couldn’t help the laugh that erupted. Even though it’s been years somehow it almost feels like no time has passed.

Almost.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Natasha asked, “still into books?”

“Uh yeah,” You confirm, “I actually own a bookshop back home.”

You see Natasha smile from ear to ear before taking a sip of what was your beer now it seems to be adopted by Natasha.

“That’s so you,” Natasha said before taking another sip from the beer bottle.

“Well what about you?” You ask, “what have you been up to?”

You could see the hesitancy in Natasha’s face, just as she was about to answer, however you see a light brown haired male come up beside her.

“Hey Nat, I hate to interrupt but we got a Budapest situation over here.” Natasha swerved her attention to where he pointed at the blonde who was obviously drunk off her ass putting a six foot tall man into a choke hold. Which you had to admire and be impressed at.

“I guess that’s my cue Nancy Drew,” Natasha said as she took one last sip from the beer bottle before abandoning it. As she was making her way through the crowd but before she got too far you saw her turn around.

“What was the name of your bookstore again, Nancy Drew?!” She yelled over the crowd.

“Oh-um- Summertime Stories!” You call out, you catch a glimpse of something in her eyes before it disappears.

“I’ll see ya soon Nancy Drew!”

Oh how right she was.

#natasha romanoff #natasha and yelena #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #Natasha romanoff x reader #MCU #mcu natasha romanoff #marvel characters #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #x reader #x reader fluff #x reader smut

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smallrainclouds · 3 years

Text

Made To Break

Yandere!Hypnos x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 5k

Warning: Yandere bevaiour, dubcon/noncon, sex in later parts

No beta. Read at your own risk.

A/N: part one of two. Enjoy.

Your father was a fool.

But perhaps You were just as foolish.

💮

When the letter arrived, you couldn't believe that the same man wrote it.

Your father always wrote in neat, tight letters but the letters You got were loopy, large letters that fused together at odd parts.

You sat in your car outside your childhood home. The front yard was nothing but overgrown grass now. You could see the lack of care the home had gotten over the years in the cracks and chipped off paint. The overcast skies and trees with just a few leaves holding on only added to the depressing picture.

You bit your lip as you pulled out your father's letter from your bag.

With shaky hands, you unfolded it again for what must have been hundreds of times.

'My dearest child.

I gave it all up. I have found a way to eternity. But it cost me everything.

Forgive me.

I just wanted to see your mother again.

Father.'

"Madness. Simply mad." You murmured. You could feel the tears welled up in your eyes, you knew your father loved your mom. Her loss had slowly eaten him alive since you were a child.

Now he was just a body in a hospital room. It was unlike any coma the doctors had seen before.

The doctor, an older woman with short gray hair and sharp blue eyes, had felt more like a grandmother than a doctor.

But even with her kind face couldn't soften the blow that your father will likely never wake up again.

You sniffed as you used your hoodie sleeve to rub at your eyes.

"Okay. Okay. You got this. This was your home too." You tried to smooth yourself with little success. With a deep breath for courage, you made your way to the house.

When you got inside the dark house, you stubbed your foot on the piles of books by the door and they promptly fell over into a heap.

"Urg, fuc-owww. Okay, Y/N great start.Just amazing." You pulled out your phone. You could make the numerous texts from your partner-no, now your ex but you just bypass those for the flashlight.

You shone the light around, there was nothing but a big mess. Books and papers had overtaken the house and you can smell the old fast food bags that piled into the corner.

You could see on one wall, writing in wasn't in English and strange markings. A single gold and red eye stared back.

"Fuck."

💮

Hours later, you had made headway in the madness that was now your childhood home.

At least your room had been mostly spared. Only some odd books here and there. And the many, many dried poppies on your floor.

You tossed the broom on the floor as you flop down along with it. You didn't realize how bad it had gotten. You only got your room back to normal, let alone the rest of the house.

Guilt swelled in your chest, you should have been more aware. You knew your dad wasn't the most stable person which isn't good but this was something else.

But…

But...

You had been busy dealing with your 'friends' group, the breakup and the last of your exams.

You covered your face, you already cried three times today and you weren't not about to start again.

Your phone buzzed, and you couldn't stop the laugh. Speak of the devil.

You rolled over to your side and pulled your phone close to you.

You swipe away the message, you were not dealing with any of your former friends right now. Your cheating jerk of an ex could keep them all. You had far more important matters to attend to now.

You opened up the gallery app, you took many photos as you could with the last of the daylight left.

You zoomed in on the writing, you had thought it was nonsense at first but after a few more looks,you could see the repeated words. You just didn't know the language.

There was something deeply wrong in this house. You could swear you could feel something was in there with you. But if friend or foe you weren't sure. You tried not to think about how your only protection was your childhood baseball bat.

But what did your dad do? You normally are able to pick apart what your dad was doing but this was something else unknown. You kept checking the pictures with the creepy red and gold eye in hope of finding something.

Slowly you could feel tiredness sinking in your bones, and before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut.

💮

A warm hand cupped your cheek, and you pressed into it with a sigh. You couldn't remember the last time you were touched so tenderly. You think for a moment it was your ex but they never did that before.

The hand left but then you were lifted up against a warm chest. You heard murmurs as sleep pulled you under again.

💮

Rushing water reached your ears and for a moment, you thought you could hear the sounds of birds.

It took you a moment to notice that you weren't in normal clothes but a tunic that went over one shoulder. You saw a brooch with two wings in its place. You should be more worried but you felt too tired to care.

You turned your head with a yawn. Whose lap were You using as a pillow? Before you could look, a hand covered your eyes.

"Not yet, You still need more time." A man's voice... but You didn't recognize it. You made a questioning sound but he hushed you gently.

"Blood and darkness, you are just as beautiful as I remember."

You reached up and stroked his hand, trying to understand what was going on.

"I don't remember… you." You slurred quietly.

"I know. It's not your fault. All it matters is that I found you again."

His thumb rubbed your cheek, "Now go back to sleep. I will be there soon."

You sighed as you sunk back into sleep.

💮

You stared at your bedroom wall, not able to breathe. There was someone else here and they apparently tucked you in bed, blanket pulled up to your chin and all.

You took a breath and tried to listen to any sounds. You waited, surely you would hear footsteps or something.

But there were no sounds, none at all.

It took all of your nerves to get out of bed. You grabbed your childhood baseball bat, it was small but you could still get a good hit in.

You remembered you left your phone on the ground and turned to look for it. It wasn't there, not on your nightstand or desk.

'Great, some creep definitely got my phone.' you tighten your hold on the bat, and after listening for a moment, you slowly push the door opened.

Without saying a word, you slowly walked out though the house. You were sure you would find out who invited themselves in.

The mess was still the same, the writing on the wall was still there. You went through the house twice and found nothing.

You heard the sound of a single bird singing in the backyard. You followed the sounds, it almost felt like it was calling you.

The bat dropped from your hand and You couldn't stop the tears in your eyes.

The backyard had been overtaken by red poppies, there was almost no grass left. the singing stopped when you stepped outside. But a soft hoot had You stared up into the tree and saw a single little owl stared back at you.

It's eyes were light yellow.

💮

It was late morning now, the overcast skies have darkened and You are sure it will start snowing soon.

You had given up finding your phone. You s out of your bedroom.

"Fine, you can have it! Good luck guessing the password, you jerk!" You shouted into the backyard. There was no response but you didn't expect one. You had already tried to find the owl but it must have flown off.

You couldn't stand the smell of the old food anymore and tossed it. You found some tea that was still good and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil.

You changed out your tight jeans and hoodie for a pair of much more comfortable jeans and an oversize sweater.

Thankfully, like your bedroom, the kitchen was also mostly clean. You found as many candles as you could, which wasn't many. Two kept the kitchen dimly lit.

You checked the light bulbs, nearly all of them had burned out. Just one more thing for you to fix.

You rubbed your face with a sigh, at least all the appliances were working. And you won't have to go without water either.

You flipped through your dad's notebooks in hopes of finding something. It was in the second notebook you finally found a name. It had been underlined and circled.

"Hypnos?" You murmured, "Who the hell is that?" It doesn't sound like a human name you heard of.

You made your tea, tucked the notebook under your arm. After cleaning off the big armchair and side table, You began going through the books in the living room. Nearly all of them were about ancient Greece, which you knew nothing about.

Your eyes went to the wall writings, that would explain why you didn't know any of the words.

Did your dad believe this stuff? You looked down at the open notebook in your lap. You skim some of the pages, the only name that came up was Hypnos.

"The god of sleep, huh?" You looked at the stacks of books. Why would your dad care about some god of sleep?

You keep looking though, and found a basic guide to Greek mythology. You flipped through the pages, "Come on Hypnos babe, where are you…"

You grinned when you saw the name in bold print. You skim past most of the information, but one part caught your eyes.

Despite being considered as a gentle and kind god, he has been known to strike others down. In the death of his lover by a human warrior (whose name had been lost to time) he had caused the world to go into a permanent state of sleep, never to waken again.

Only his mother Nyx, goddess of night, was able to talk him down or fight him depending on the storyteller and restore the world. In oral storytelling that has been recorded, it is said that he still uses dreams in hope of finding his lost love.

"Oh dad. No wonder." Your heart twisted, sad that your dad's last days have been spent on some myth. He must have been so far gone to think any of it was real.

But was he wrong? You stared out the window, knowing there was somehow a field of poppies waiting.

Your gut flipped, and told yourself it was just one of those freakish nature things.

💮

You didn't quite realize when you fell asleep. You sighed when you felt a hand touch your forehead followed by a kiss.

You tried to wake up, but the voice murmured something and you just hummed. Your eyelids are too heavy to open anyway.

When the arms scooped you again, you just sighed and curled against the chest.

💮

You felt soft grass tickle your face. You pushed yourself up quickly. You were in the tunic again and you could see a sea of poppies and other flowers surrounding you.

A thick fog of sleepiness tried to pull you back but you ignored it. Not again, damnit.

You stood up, your legs felt so wobbly like a baby deer. Dispise your best attempt, You fell on your knees, the call to sleep overpowering.

You gasped when a hand covered your eyes. You grabbed his wrist, "No, I don't want to go back to sleep." You could feel the fog of sleep growing stronger. You kicked at his legs but got nothing but air.

"I'm sorry, but not yet." His voice came next to your ear, you could feel his breath on your skin. You tried to move away but you fell against him. Your head lolled upward against a shoulder.

An arm wrapped around your waist and held you firm.

"Soon, I promise. I just have to handle a few more things. I will be here when you wake up." A kiss was pressed against your temple.

You wanted demand for answers but you were already falling back into the darkness.

💮

"Not again." You moaned. You sat up, the blanket pooled in your lap. What in the world was going on?

You were back in the oversize sweater and jeans. You press your fingers against your temple. Those kisses felt so real.

Are you going mad too? Just like your dad? You gulped, feeling so very alone.

An hour later and some crying, You somehow found the willpower to make it out of bed. Snow was falling down now and a healthy inch was already on the ground.

You made it to the living room when you saw him by the window, snow falling down against the glass. His sheer size made the living room seem smaller. He was reading one of your dad's notebooks in one hand, a quill floated around next to him.

Some part of you, deep inside of you knew were looking at Hypnos, God of sleep.

"It's you." Your voice cracked. His shoulders tensed up as he turned. Bright, yellow eyes stared at you. "Oh you were the owl too weren't you?" You said numbly.

He nodded slowly, "You've been crying again." He said concerned, his eyes scanned you up and down. He tossed the notebook to the side as he took a step toward you.

Unable to tear your eyes away, you grabbed for the first thing you could reach, a thick and heavy book. And with all of your strength, you launched it at his head.

"Blood and darkness!" He ducked to the side. You reached for another and hurled it.

"It's you!" You snarled, feeling like a rabid animal. "You did this! What did you do to my dad?! To my fucking phone?!"

The bastard ducked again. "Hey, I didn't do anything he didn't ask for!" He held up his palms, stretched out to show he wasn't a threat.

"I won't hurt you. I would never lay a finger on you, Y/N." His voice was soft, kind like he was dealing with some animal.

You stared for a moment, rage overtaking any sense you had. "You've been the asshole putting me to bed every night." You grabbed another book and hurled it. "How dare you!"

And of course, he sidestepped the book. Which just made you angier.

"I don't care if you're a god. Make my dad go back to normal. Or I will find a way to hurt you somehow!"

"He didn't tell you anything did he?" The god asked, a wry smile on his face. You picked up another book, and he just sighed. "Have you tried aiming? Sounds crazy, I know but maybe you could actually hit me this time?"

"You don't get to be disparaging, not with all the trouble you made for me." You gestured with the book as if it would help make your point.

You stood behind the armchair, using it as a shield. You knew you wouldn't win in a physical fight but you weren't going to make it easy for him.

Hypnos sighed, "No, no you're right. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his curls, a soft smile on his face.

"I'm happy though, you are still as courageous as you always have been. I wasn't sure what I would find after all this time."

"What are you talking about? I have never seen you before. I think I would remember meeting an ancient god." You snarled, not enjoying whatever game the god was playing with you.

"Most people don't try to fight a god with books, my love. Not even other gods." Hypnos smiled.

"If I had something stronger, I would beat you with that. Be happy that I don't have my bat on me. You still didn't answer anything."

You pointed at the wall with writings. "I want answers and I want them now. You said we met before, when?"

Hypnos was silent, his eyes tracing the words on the wall. He stepped closer to the center of the wall, his fingers traced the words. "So that's where he messed up. I told him to check with me before doing anything." He murmured to himself.

After a moment, he looked at you.

"In your past life, you were going to be my consort. I've been looking for you for a very long time.."

You stared, quiet in your disbelief. He waved a hand toward the wall, "Problem is that the spell got messed up. I think your father was rushing and couldn't finish the spell the proper way. That's why you don't remember anything."

You shook your head, laughing "No, none of this makes sense."

"Y/N, stop hiding behind that ugly chair, and we can talk more about what happened." Hypnos' voice tried to sound calming, but you heard an undercurrent of eagerness. Of hunger to it.

You shook your head, "No, and don't take another step toward me. I can see what you're doing. That lighting thing your fingers are doing, Hypnos." You tighten your grip on the book, cursing yourself for leaving your bat up your bedroom. Not that it would be much better.

Hypnos' fingers abruptly stopped the magic spell. His smile faded and his eyes stayed on you, waiting for your next move.

You eyed him, you haven't been able to land a single hit on him but you didn't see any signs of super speed yet.

You might be able to get out of the house and into the car before he could get you. But what if he just could teleport or something you haven't thought of?

It was a risk you would have to take because since you saw him, he watched you like you were some prey for him and you didn't want to stick around to find out what Hypnos had planned.

The living room front way will be no good but the backdoor was in the kitchen, if you could make that, it would be a longer run but you would have far more chances for escape…

You dropped everything and took off like a shot into the kitchen. You almost sailed into the sink but used the motion for more speed.

You heard Hypnos yelled your name followed by something you were sure was a swear word in Greek.

The yard, full of poppies and snow greeted you, you hissed as your socks got soaked from the snow.

You almost made it to the gate, and past that, you could see your car.

Freedom.

You didn't see the root sticking out of the ground, but you saw it on the way down.

The breath knocked out of you when you slammed into the cold ground and mere seconds afterwards, you felt hands on your shoulders followed by a pressure against your back. Hypnos leaned down, his lips against your ear, and he spoke in must have been Greek.

"No. Nonono." You gasped, fighting for breath but he just shushed you. His fingers brushed against your cheeks almost lovingly.

Your eyelids slided shut.

💮

When you woke up, your fingers were curled against an unfamiliar red blanket. You sighed as your eyes drifted shut, you couldn't remember the last time you felt so….warm and safe.

You heard the sounds of paper moving around and your eyes fluttered open.

Hypnos must have cleared off the sofa and placed you there. You could see the written wall behind him, post-it notes dotted between the words and some of them were covered with lined paper, new words on it.

Hypnos was sitting on the ground, notebooks and paper surrounded him. A quill tip between his teeth, his golden eyes almost glowed in the dim lighting.

It took a moment of staring but you noticed Hypnos's cloak was gone. Your fingers tighten when you realize you were under his cloak. You took a moment to look at him as he kept reading the notebook

While he wasn't the broadest person you've ever seen, there was a solidness to him. You could see the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders. The gold bands he wore only highlighted the muscles.

You tore your eyes away. 'Jerk.' you thought even as your cheeks warmed.

"I don't like you very much." You spoke, voice rough with sleep.

Hypnos looked up to you, not saying anything. He took out the quill and twilled it between his fingers.

You rolled your eyes at him, unmoving your spot under his cloak. He stared, looking thoughtful for a second before he leaned toward you with a wide smile on his lips, "If you don't like me then you should return my cloak."

"No, it's mine now." The words slipped out your mouth before you knew it.

You blinked at his laugh. You thought he would be upset.

Hypnos chuckled fondly, "Word for word."

At your questioning look, he continued.

"You don't remember yet but the first time we met, you were trying to find medicine for humans. I think you were upset at me because you got lost in my cave. I brought you back home and I gave you my cloak so you could get warm."

You sat up against the arm rest, holding on to the cloak. Not ready to give up the feeling of safety yet. You bit your lip, not quite sure what to say.

His eyes glazed over, the quill still spinning between his fingers. His voice turned quiet. "You were so beautiful, so strong, so determined. You fought for humanity, not that they even remember, those worthless animals, the whole lot."

He seemed lost in a memory so you just waited it out, letting him talk.

"You hated the fact I took half of their lives away from them. And that I often took more."

His eyes meet yours, and his whole face softens. You flushed at the realization that you could make him do that, to have that much power over another being let alone a god.

"I couldn't give up the half, it was mine by birthright but I was slower afterward, let them have more time to themselves. And I never took more than half. The only reason I got called a kind god was because of you."

You stood up, still holding on the cloak and walked over to him. His eyes never left you, and you had to tell yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You kneeled next to him and after a second, you reached out to touch his shoulder. You were surprised at how warm he was, how human-like he felt. Maybe you were wrong about him.

"Hypnos. I-I I'm sorry you lost them. I can hear how much you love them, especially after all this time. But I am not whoever you think I-"

"How much I love you." Hypnos interrupted, his hand covered your own. "I never stopped looking for you. I just need more time to fix this." He waved a hand to the wall.

You shook your head, "I am not then though. You are just like my dad, always looking for a person who isn't there."

"No, your father was. The woman who birthed you died and is in the underworld now. You, however, are here in front of me." Hypnos leaned closer, he tightened his hold but it wasn't painful, it was almost comforting. "You are them, your eyes, your lips, your nose even the way you move and talk. You are them, given life again."

"How?!" You said despairing,surely even he could see what nonsense he was saying? "How could a god become reborn as a human? Or even go back to being a god?"

"There are ways. There is always a way." Hypnos replied darkly. He took your other hand and held them between his own warm hands. "You haven't even let me talk to you, to tell you what happened."

"I don't want to." You whispered, "I don't need to know what happened. I just want to know what it will take for you to understand that I am not them."

Hypnos didn't say anything for a few minutes and the silence grew heavy.

"Did he summon you?" You asked, trying not to feel guilty, looking at the swirls of words on the wall, in the middle of the circle was a single red and gold eye staring back.

Hypnos stared at the wall along with you, "He really didn't tell you anything did he?"

You dug out the letter from your front pocket. "This was the last thing he wrote to me. This isn't his normal writing."

Hypnos read the letter, his eyebrows rose and reread it again. "Blood and darkness, what a damn fool."

"Hey, that's my dad you know." You murmured, "Also you guys are both doing the same thing, you with me, and he with my mom."

"No, not nearly the same thing." Hypnos scoffed. You rolled your eyes at his words. You moved on, tired of this fight for now.

"Where did dad get this information anyway?" You asked.

Hypnos sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "From me. I loaned out the books I have for this kind of stuff. He told me that he could handle the translation since it had to be a two person spell, think of it as a bridge, your dad could visit your mom every time he dreamt. But I had to be on the other side to help build it."

"You trusted him? I mean you seem like you don't like humans."

"I didn't. This whole mess just proved my point. But…" Hypnos shrugged, "I knew you wouldn't let me just take you without making sure your dad wasn't alone. I wanted you to want to come back to me, especially after everything I've done."

You brushed your fingers along the cloak, "Are you talking about when you put the whole world to sleep?"

"And most of the gods." Hypnos added. "I still don't remember much of what I did. My mother or brother still hasn't spoken to me since then."

Hypnos looked so worn down, his brow furrowed and you wanted to smooth the stress away from him but you held back. You already let him touch you even if it made you want to run. Toward him or away from him you couldn't say.

"I've been so blinded by the thought of having you in my arms again, I didn't foresee him going rogue on me." He murmured quietly.

Hypnos fixed his gaze on you, but you looked away, cursing the flush on your cheeks.

"I took care of the stuff he wouldn't have been able to do. With the underworld and stuff. But he fucked up, he changed the spell without telling me. And he did it badly. He tried to bring her from the underworld and you can't do that, and now he has to deal with the punishment."

"Well, can't you just erase it? Or do a new spell? I mean, you are a god right? Do you even need this stuff?"

Hypnos slid his fingers under your chin, making you look at him. "Listen to me." His serious tone kept you from pulling away. "No one can't take the dead from the underworld. Not me, not Hades or even my mother. It's the cost of life. Right now, he is being punished for his pride and when he does die, there is a good chance he won't be able to find your mother."

You swallow, your heart breaking, "Is there nothing you can do?"

"I don't know." Hypnos said. "I was already putting my neck on the line just to let them have a link."

"What if I agree to go with you, to see if I am the one you are looking for? I will do whatever you need me to." You asked.

Hypnos didn't respond, his eyes glazed.

"Hypnos, please." You begged, "I can't just let him die like this-"

He spoke finally, "I will talk to Persephone. I can't promise anything. I'm still banned from the house after the 'Great Sleep'."

"Thank you! Thank you, Hypnos." You felt dizzy with relief and hugged him. You squeezed him, and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." Hypnos chuckled, his hands on your back,"You might not like what you'll get."

#hypnos x reader #yandere #self insert #hades hypnos

104 notes · View notes

sariahsue · 3 years

Text

Rivals Are Always One “Make Me” Away From Kissing

Tossing the controller onto the desk, Adrien reached for Marinette’s waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. (An Adrinette no powers video game AU - 10,000 words)

Adrien had to admit that he was a little bit of a nerd. Here he was, fifteen minutes early for school, in an outfit his personal assistant picked out for him, and looking over his homework alone in the hallway instead of talking with classmates or hanging out in the sunny courtyard like everyone else was doing.

A gust of cool air rushed in through an open doorway and ruffled his hair, making him sigh. It was no wonder he was still single.

The whisper of his name on the wind caught his attention.

"Nino?" Adrien called. The hallway was deserted, so he stuffed his homework into his backpack and stepped closer to the open doorway to investigate. The back of Nino's red cap came into view. He was sitting on the front steps, brushing shoulders with Alya.

"You have too much faith in my bro," Nino said.

Adrien stopped walking forward as his heart sank to the floor. Nino didn't believe in him about something?

"I'm giving Marinette one week, tops," Alya said.

"It's going to take him at least a month," Nino countered.

"You willing to bet on that?" she asked, standing.

"Yeah, I am."

Alya stuck out her hand, then pulled him up as they shook on it.

It was only when they started to turn to come into the building that Adrien realized he shouldn't have been eavesdropping while standing in the dead center of an empty hallway. There was nothing to hide him from the surprised eyes of his friends.

Alya was the first to recover, her expression quickly slipping to suspicion. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Nothing!" he said, hands up. "I didn't-"

"Did you hear the news?" Nino cut in.

"N-no? What are you talking about?"

"The Olympic Committee voted."

"About?" Adrien asked. He tried to forget… whatever they'd been talking about.

"eGames are in for Paris 2024!"

"Seriously?" Adrien asked. "I thought they voted against that last month."

Nino ignored the comment and held out a hand for a high-five, but it was more like a middle five, limp and unenthusiastic. Nino glanced toward Alya, and they shared a smile.

"I bet I could get us tickets easy," Adrien said, pulling Nino's attention away from his girlfriend. "Want to come-"

Nino snapped back to attention, eyes gleaming. "You should sign up for the team."

"I should what?" Adrien asked, bewildered by his friend's sudden change in tone. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm not that good."

"No really, dude." Nino grabbed his arm. "I think you could do it." He threw an arm around Adrien's shoulder, turned him around and marched him deeper into the school.

"No thanks?" Adrien let himself be steered into a crowded hallway, Alya stalking behind them, her eyes burning into his back. "I'd need more practice than I have time for. Some of those gamers-"

"All you need-" Nino guided them around a group of upperclassmen. "-is a partner to practice with."

What was going on? Adrien knew he was kind of sheltered and maybe a little socially awkward, but he knew Nino well enough at this point that he could tell he was trying to set something up. "I get it. You want an excuse to play on my system every day. But you know my father-"

"Oh, no way, man. I'm not good enough." They stepped through a pair of double doors and out into the morning sunshine of the courtyard. Students laughed and yelled at each other. Others lounged on the stairs going up to the second floor. Nino's hand on his shoulder tightened and they stopped moving. "But maybe there's someone-"

"Yeah," Alya cut in. She shoved her way in between them and pointed to the middle of the courtyard, toward a tight cluster of students. "I bet Marinette would want to practice with you."

Adrien followed the line of Alya's finger. Marinette's dark hair and bright smile peeked out from the center of the group. As usual, she was surrounded by admirers, all of whom were laughing at something she had just said. His stomach clenched, though he wasn't sure why.

"You're kidding, right? She's one of the most popular girls in school."

"Did you miss the memo, sunshine?" Alya said. "You're pretty popular yourself."

"And the four of us hang out together all the time," Nino said. "I'm sure she would love to spend some time with just you."

"I don't even think I want to be in the Olympics," Adrien said, turning away from Marinette and glancing at his other friends. There was definitely something going on. Nino and Alya traded sideways glances and wiggling eyebrows, communicating something Adrien couldn't figure out.

"You really should ask Marinette to practice with you, dude," Nino said.

"No, I don't think-"

"Come on, Agreste." Alya stepped up into his space. Not that he could ever tell Nino this, but his girlfriend could be scary when she wanted to be. She was somehow towering over him, even though he could have sworn a few seconds ago that he was taller than she was. "You want a gold medal, don't you?"

"No?"

"Yes, you do. Now go ask Marinette."

"This isn't even about the Olympics, is it?"

Alya nudged him through the open door and into the light. Adrien blinked, disoriented by the sudden movement and the direction his morning had taken.

"Get moving," Alya insisted.

"Okay, okay! I'll ask her!" he said. His plan to skirt around Marinette's knot of students and escape to the other edge of the courtyard was shot down when his friends' footsteps crunched behind him. They weren't going to let him get away.

Feeling their eyes on him, Adrien weaved his way through the students that filled the yard, hoping the bell would ring and give him an excuse to abandon his quest. What was really happening here?

Guys and girls alike were leaning over Marinette's shoulder, and as he got closer he could tell the laughter was due to something on the sketch pad she was holding. Her smile and the light hitting her hair just right made her glow. Her eyes sparkled.

And Adrien stopped moving.

There was no way he could approach her with this many people around. What was he going to say, anyway? Hey, I think our friends are terrible and plotting something against me, and I'm going to regret asking later, but will you please play video games with me? It sounded stupid even in his head.

A single, sharp fingernail between his shoulder blades reminded him that he had no choice in the matter, so he stepped forward, excusing himself through the crowd of Marinette's admirers, until he was close enough to grab her elbow and borrow her attention.

"A-a-adrien?" she asked, stuttering when her bright eyes found his. "How you- uh, what?"

"Can we play video games later?" Ugh. This was even worse out loud than it had been in his head. "Um, the Olympics are coming up later. And we should practice." Yes, that was an eloquent explanation. Very smooth.

Marinette's eyes went wide in a doe-eyed stare, like she couldn't believe he'd ask her such a thing. "Oh." Her voice shook. "Th-tho nank you. No thank you! I don't-" She glanced behind him, over his shoulder. "I mean, yes! I would love to!" She stared at his feet and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Adrien glanced quickly behind him. Nino and Alya were standing a little way away, looking far too innocent. Alya examined her fingernails. Nino was gazing all around the courtyard, not fixing on any one point, his face blank. So they were bullying Marinette into it, too? Whatever they were planning, he wasn't going to let them make her uncomfortable.

"You don't have to," he told her quickly, and her head snapped back up to his. "I mean, it's probably a stupid idea. If you don't want to, I understand. It's kind of a weird idea. And I think the Olympics are dumb and, I mean, you probably like them, so-"

"No," she said quickly, mercifully cutting him off. She reached out to grab his arm, but pulled back just before her fingers brushed his skin. It was close enough to raise goosebumps.

"I do want to practice with you," Marinette said.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Really," she said, putting enough force into it that she sounded almost convincing.

"Okay," he said, skeptical. She must have so many friends and demands on her attention. She was really going to make time for one-on-one time for him? "I have a free two hours before my piano lessons tomorrow. I'll ask if you can come over."

"I'm free then!"

After her initial hesitation, he was surprised to hear her so excited. What was really going on? "Then, that's good, I guess. Sounds... good. Great."

"Great," she echoed.

The bell rang. Relieved, Adrien walked off through the shuffling crowd, pushing through sharp elbows and heavy backpacks and toward Nino and Alya, who were muttering to each other, their heads close together, and not paying him any attention.

Alya was whispering as he approached. He only caught a soft, "They're going to be-" before she noticed him and walked off.

"Bro, please make me lose." Nino adjusted the headphones around his neck.

"You want to lose? What, a bet?"

"Can't say," Nino said. "It's important, though. You've got a month."

If Adrien was confused before, he was stumped now. The only thing he was sure of was that this had nothing to do with the Committee vote or video games. Was Marinette in on it or was she his fellow victim?

Now that he didn't need the bell to save him from anything, it happily rang the beginning of class. Dozens of shoes shuffled down the hallways. Friends called out to each other. Adrien trailed far behind Marinette on his way to their class. Her pigtails bounced to her enthusiastic step.

What was really happening?

***

A week later, Adrien didn't really care what the motivation behind the practice sessions had been. He was having too much fun. In a stunning display of paternal affection, Gabriel had allowed Adrien to set up regular video gaming sessions with Marinette. Or Nathalie had put it into his schedule and not mentioned it to his father. Probably the second one, though he liked to pretend.

Today, they were up in his room, being washed in the music of Mario Kart that they were playing on his gigantic television. Adrien sat up straight on the couch, toes digging into the plush carpet, and pouring his focus onto the screen, but Marinette was draped across the furniture, one foot dragging on the floor, the other accidentally poking his knee whenever one of them leaned into a turn.

In the past few days, a remarkable change had come over Marinette. Instead of being anxious and fidgety whenever they ran into each other at school, the hours of being together had forced her to grow relaxed around him. It was amazing to see the side of her that everyone else so admired shining out of her when she was with him, instead of it being trapped under her awkward stutter like it used to be. He loved this.

As he rounded the final turn, Marinette on his tail, he squeezed the controller even harder, though his character was already going at top speed. A squirt of black ink blocked out his half of the screen.

"No!" he yelled, trying to negotiate the curve while blind. "I forgot you had that one! I thought you were out!"

Marinette didn't leave her position on the couch until she'd crossed the finish line. When she did, she jumped up and crowed her victory. "I beat you again! Admit it! You're going to cry yourself to sleep tonight because I creamed you so bad!"

Adrien wiped away a fake tear with her controller and was rewarded with one of Marinette's soft giggles. The sound was infectious, and soon his laughter joined hers. This was the way a lot of their games ended. Win or lose, they were both happy, just because they enjoyed each other's company.

Adrien's suspicions had melted away over the past few days. Nino and Alya were dating, and they wanted their best friends to spend time together. That must have been it. He had to admit, he loved the idea.

And he loved that she was comfortable enough with him to be the person he saw her be with other people, bold and funny and expressive, somehow kind and fierce at the same time, ready to compliment him or trash talk him at a moment's notice. It kept him on his toes.

While the question of why it had taken her so long to warm up to him nagged at him, it wasn't enough to keep him from acknowledging that he was much happier when she was around.

"So what do you want to play next?" Marinette slid off the couch and pulled out his collection of games.

"Shovel of Hope," he said quickly.

"I usually pick that one," she said, turning to direct a questioning eyebrow his way.

"It is. And I want you to be happy, so we can play your favorites twice in a row."

A slack look of shock was replaced quickly by Marinette's shy smile, and Adrien's heart flipped.

He'd always known she had a nice smile. So why did it seem like a new revelation just now?

***

If Adrien's observation about their first week together was how much he liked Marinette, then observation about the second week was how much his game had improved.

Marinette's skill on most games was just a little higher than his own, so playing against her was always a challenge, and teaming up with her was always instructive. Of course, her teasing continually spurred him on.

Today they were in her room playing Zombie Fighter 2, which he'd never even heard of before. And it showed. After seven rounds, he had failed to land a single hit on Marinette's character. He went down in a shower of sparks.

"KO'd again! I can't believe it!" Adrien tossed his controller into his lap. He noticed every time his left knee brushed her right as they sat cross-legged on her chaise.

"Your skills are improving, young grasshopper," Marinette said.

"How is losing improving?"

"You lasted a whole ten seconds longer than last time. You're learning how to run away."

Adrien socked her in the face with a pink pillow. He'd been in her room a handful of times now and he still couldn't get over how pink everything was. Walls, curtains, blankets, even furniture. It suited her, though.

Marinette stood up and stretched. A small strip of skin peeked out where her shirt rode up. "We should head downstairs. Your driver will be here soon."

"No." Adrien averted his gaze quickly. "Let's play one more!" The warmth of Marinette's room wasn't something he looked forward to leaving, not when his own sterile, empty room was the only thing waiting to welcome him home.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Can't get enough of me, or can't get enough of being pounded into the ground, I wonder?"

"Jury's out."

"Ouch! Why do I keep you around, again?" she asked.

"Must be because I'm so cute." Adrien selected his character, and the screen lit up with another round.

"Must be." Marinette ruffled his hair.

Adrien sat up a little straighter. Was it the praise? Or was it her touch? When she took her hand away, it was to fix his grip on the controller.

"You're never going to win like that. Your fingers aren't spread out enough. Like this." She adjusted each finger individually, pushing and poking and smoothing each one into place until they curved just so.

Her hands radiated warmth. But not just that. It felt like... kindness? Caring? How was he getting that from just the feel of her fingertips against his wrists, directing him to relax the sudden tension in his arms?

By the time she pulled away and they started playing, Adrien's hands were shaking. He pulled them deeper into his lap, so she wouldn't see the tremors.

What was happening? And why did he feel like Marinette touching him again was going to make him feel better? Whatever it was, it wasn't helping him win.

"That'll teach me to compliment you," Marinette said after cutting down his avatar with ease. "That was awful. What happened?"

"Just tired, I guess," Adrien said, putting his controller between them and flapping his hands, like they were sweaty or cramping or something else normal.

"Tired, huh? I can play better than that in my sleep! So what's the real reason?"

"Tired. That's really the reason."

"Tired of getting beat, maybe."

"Oh, lay off."

"Make me."

He needed something to do with the nervous energy in his hands, and Marinette was asking for it. When he poked her side, she made the most adorable squeal he'd ever heard, and he had to do it again. The tickle fight that ensued was nothing short of inevitable. She tried to reach for the pillow on the floor to defend herself with, but he took the opportunity to poke her side and she tumbled off the chaise and pulled him with her. It wasn't enough to stop him.

"I surrender!" Marinette gasped after only a few seconds. "You win!"

"You admit I'm better at something than you?"

"No, your arms are just longer, like a monkey's." She laughed even before she felt his retaliation tickle for the jibe.

As their laughter subsided, Adrien felt lighter. He hadn't had fun with a friend like this in he couldn't remember how long. His father always made him feel foolish for finding something mildly amusing. Somehow, Marinette made falling off his seat liberating instead of embarrassing. He loved that about her.

Sprawled out as they were, it took Adrien a few seconds before he noticed where his hand was resting. Right on Marinette's soft stomach. She was smiling up the ceiling, not seeming to notice or care that he was touching her. It felt nice.

But it was probably weird. He was being weird.

So why was he not moving?

His hand moved up and down with her breathing, rhythmic and calming. Would she stop him if he slid his fingers along the fabric and felt the texture of her shirt?

He kept his hands still until she sighed deeply, and then he guiltily removed it.

***

It had been the best month of Adrien's life, and he owed it all to the girl who was walking toward him. The school courtyard was packed with students going home for the day. Backpacks hung off shoulders. People shouted to each other. Heads bobbed up and down as they tried to find their friends in the crowd.

Marinette's small build made it difficult for her to push her way through the crowd, but shoved backpacks and used her elbows and finally reached him. He was touched by the effort that she made to be near him.

"Nino and Alya coming?" he asked.

"Over there," she said, nodding toward the couple. "You ready to head out? My dad promised croissants for all of us today, and I'm very done with school right now."

It wasn't easy to pick out their friends in the mass of students, but he finally found them by the stairs, heads together like they were whispering despite the noise.

"What are they talking about?"

Marinette sighed. "The, uh, that bet." She looked sideways at him, like she was hoping he'd say something about it.

"Oh," Adrien said, racking his brain for scraps of memory. "Nino won, right? He said it was going to take over a month." For someone who won a bet, he didn't look very happy about it. The two looked over at him at the same time and frowned. Well, Nino frowned. Alya glowered.

"Technically, Alya's got until the end of the day but... yeah." Her voice became very quiet. Small and sad. "Nino's going to win."

"I never learned what that was about," he said, hoping she would provide an answer to the mystery.

Marinette just shook her head and started fidgeting with her purse strap to avoid looking at him. "L-let's wait for them," she stammered.

That wasn't a good sign. He didn't want to push her into her old habit of not being able to hold a conversation with him, so he didn't ask again. "Sure, we can wait," he said, taking a step to the side to give her some space. "It looks like they're on their way over already."

Nino and Alya approached with fake smiles plastered on their faces, like nothing had happened. Neither greeted Adrien or Marinette when they reached them, just kept walking toward the doors. The crowd thickened the closer to the door they got. Students pushed to get out of the building, and Adrien quickly lost sight of Nino and Alya somewhere ahead of him. He and Marinette squeezed through the doors and finally made it out onto the stairs.

"Oh no!" Marinette pulled at her hair as they started down the stairs.

"What?" Adrien asked, shuffling behind a red backpack that was going much slower than it needed to.

"Nothing, nothing. I just broke an elastic again." Keeping one fist in her hair to hold the pigtail in place, she fished in her purse for another one. Their pace became a crawl as she searched.

"Just wear it down," Adrien suggested.

"I'll look stupid," she said, giving up the search in favor of digging in her pockets.

"Come on, you'll look fine," he said, trying to convince her so they could catch back up to the others. He could see them waiting by the crosswalk, backs to them. "I've never seen your hair down before."

Marinette half turned to him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "All right," she finally said, letting it fall and taking out the other side to match. She brushed it out with her fingers as they finished walking down the stairs.

She looked nice like that. Really nice. A piece of him thought he should probably tell her that, so she wouldn't feel self-conscious. The rest of him was just glad Alya and Nino weren't looking at them, so they couldn't see him gaping at Marinette like a vulture.

That was when his hands started trembling. The nervous energy was back, urging him to reach out and touch her. Maybe tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger by her cheek, his fingertips graze her jaw. But he didn't want her to pull away again, so he clenched his fists and tried to remind himself that there was no reason for him to be acting this weird around her.

"I feel like everyone is staring at me," she said after only a few seconds.

Well, I don't know about everyone. At least one person is. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. Students started breaking away from the main group, escaping down the sidewalk toward their homes. Nino and Alya had finally noticed their approach.

"My hair must look stupid. I knew it!" She threw her hands on top of her head, a combination of covering herself and patting it down to lie smooth.

"They're only staring because you're so beautiful."

Adrien and Marinette stopped and stared at each other. Alya and Nino stared at the pair of them. A light turned green and cars streamed past, the wind they created making Marinette's hair dance.

Marinette looked as surprised at his words as he felt. But it was true. He'd never thought about it before, but she was probably the prettiest person he'd ever met. Inside and out.

When the initial shock wore off after three seconds, Marinette hunched her shoulders. "Oh, w-w-well, y-you th-thank."

Panic settled over him as she stuttered. He'd messed up somehow. She was nervous. He'd made her uncomfortable. He was weird and made her feel weird, and he'd messed everything up. She was upset.

He opened his mouth to apologize – he had no idea how to apologize for giving an honest compliment but he knew he had to try – but the look on her face froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Shock and disbelief, warring with curiosity. But they were all replaced with the familiar crinkle in her eyes that meant a challenge was sure to follow.

"So your true feelings come out at last," she said in delight. "Sorry, but I can't get involved with my sparring partner, so don't ask."

"What-"

"No, no. Your begging won't work on me!" She pushed him away with one hand flat against his chest.

Could she feel his heart beating through his shirt? She must have been able to. The whirlwind shift in her attitude was making him nervous.

He looked at Nino and Alya for help at this sudden change. They were both open-mouthed.

That was when it clicked. She was just teasing him again. Or more likely daring him. He knew her well enough to know that tone when he heard it, the same when she offered a bonus challenge round. That compliment had been sincere, but he knew how to play along.

"Oh please, Marinette," he said, falling to his knees. "Your grace and beauty surpass all." The words were so easy to say. Too easy. "Make me the happiest boy in school and go out with me?" He clasped his hands and unleashed the most pitiful expression he knew how to make, not sure if he was even acting.

Marinette flipped her loose hair over her shoulder. "I could never give my heart to my most bitter rival."

"Noooo!" He threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her stomach. He heard more than felt her laughter, but inside he ached. Ached as she ran her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck and then because she pulled her hand away. Ached because it felt so good to be close to her and then because he was letting her go as he stood back up. It was all he could do not to let the ache show through his fake smile as he continued the "joke."

Nino had his face in hands. "I hate both of you," he mumbled through his fingers. "So, so much."

Alya had already given up on them. She was halfway to the bakery.

"That's unfair," Marinette said, shifting her backpack and not looking at Adrien like he wished she would. "This is completely Adrien's fault."

"Mine?" he said, trying to sound scandalized instead of bitterly disappointed. "You're the one who won't go out with me."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to pause when she saw his face. He tried to school his expression, hide the new emotions pulsing through his blood, replace it with a smirk and a wink.

It must have worked because Marinette tapped his nose and said, "Sorry, Adrien. You'll have to ask me again some other time. I'm too busy being single at the moment."

The words cut deeper than they had any right to.

Nino grumbled something and turned away. Across the street, Alya shouted, "Are you two done being stupid yet?"

It seemed like Marinette was the only one who was truly happy after the joke, though he thought he saw something else flash across her face as she looked away. He wanted to pretend that it was longing or maybe regret, but he knew that couldn't be true. Marinette considered him just a friend. They had only been joking.

No, she had been joking. Everything he'd said was real. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

His compliments, all the praise, asking her out, every single word of it had been real.

The ache settled deep into his heart.

***

The next morning, Adrien arrived at school a few minutes earlier than he normally would have, heart pounding and exhausted as he walked through the front doors. The exhaustion was caused by barely sleeping at all last night, instead being consumed with thoughts of Marinette, her confidence, her hair, her laughter, her quiet beauty, her kindness, and how much he wanted to touch her and spend time with her.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since he'd realized he was in love with her, but it spread through him like an wildfire, burning him up from the inside out, reaching through every part of him and carving out new places for thoughts of Marinette to inhabit, driving him to do something, anything so he could be with her.

His pounding heart was caused by that last bit, the knowledge that he now needed to act. His plan was simple, but he ran through it again anyway as he waited by her locker. As casually as he could, he was going to ask her out. But not on a date. Not yet. If she didn't like him that way (the "if" killed him; he knew she didn't), he wasn't going to mess up his chance by playing his hand too soon. He repeated his line over and over again. "I was just wondering if you'd like to do something other than video games with me some time?"

It was simple. It was normal friend stuff. He leaned against her locker, the cool metal soothing the voice that said she was going to say no, that he was an idiot for even asking her. After joking around yesterday, it was clear that she only thought of him as her weird gaming nerd friend. Why would she want to do other things with him?

But he had to try anyway. If she said yes, it would be a step in the right direction. He would be able to spend more time with her.

Though he tried not to, Adrien watched every person who entered the hallway, waiting for her. His heart leaped to his throat every time he saw black hair, and it crashed back down to his feet every time it wasn't hers.

If she said no, well, he would accept his place as just her gaming buddy, even though it would break his heart. And he could always pretend that their practice sessions were dates, right? Besides, he'd known her for over a year and he'd been okay with being only friends that entire time. It would probably be simple to find his way back to that easy, uncomplicated friendship.

He slipped a little farther down the cold locker door. His argument was very unconvincing, and he swallowed back the tightness in his throat at the idea.

Black hair bobbed into view, and this time it was Marinette's face underneath it. Blue eyes flashing. Smiling broadly at someone who wasn't him.

Excitement and terror washed through him. Her laughter echoed down the hall ahead of her, and he basked in the sound and sight of her. Would he even be able to speak by the time she finally saw him?

Marinette hadn't noticed him yet. She was talking with someone else, and Adrien's eyes flicked to her companion.

Nathaniel was laughing too, then laughing harder at something else Marinette said. Without hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. Marinette looked content as they walked ever closer to her locker, and that's when Adrien finally accepted the truth.

She was going to say no.

And he couldn't accept just being friends.

With only seconds to make up his mind before she saw him, Adrien did the only thing he could think of.

He ran away.

***

Today's practice was taking place cross-legged on his floor, staring up at his giant television. Marinette sat with him, a six-inch gap separating them, but she looked over at him from time to time, concerned at his silence.

Over the past week, Adrien hadn't given up hope completely, though he knew he should have. Marinette didn't like him that way and was way out of his league. The knowledge didn't stop him from agonizing over the perfect thing to say that would get her to change her mind, or at least give him a chance.

In the end, he had waited too long.

Though he was trying to act like everything was fine, the jealousy ripping through him was affecting his mood, his game, even his face, and had been chewing him up all afternoon. For the millionth time, he tried smoothing out his scowl. He'd already given up trying to shake life back into his numb hands.

B, up, duck, A. Button smashing when he knew he wasn't fast enough. Finally watching as his avatar felt defeated to the mat. Again. He took a shaky breath.

"Okay, what is going on?" Marinette asked, placing her controller carefully down in front of her, lining it up perfectly parallel to her knees. "You're making a lot of rookie mistakes. It isn't like you."

"Oh, just tired," Adrien said, making a show of stretching and lolling back.

"You told me this morning you'd slept really well last night," she said flatly.

"Oh." Right. He'd said that. Shoot. "Tired... from school."

"Okay... What was so-"

Adrien started a new round, forcing Marinette to scramble for her controller and cut off her interrogation.

It was only going to buy him time. If Marinette thought someone was upset, he knew she wasn't going to let it rest until she'd helped them feel better. It was one of many, many things that he loved about her. But he also knew he'd be better off bringing it up before she did, so he could steer the conversation.

They played for a few minutes in silence while Adrien's character was annihilated and he organized his thoughts. "So..." he finally asked, and he was pleased to hear his voice sounding almost normal, not tense like he felt. "What did Nathaniel want to talk to you privately about earlier?"

Adrien knew. She probably knew that he knew.

Nathaniel had asked her out. Adrien had been too slow, and now she was someone else's girlfriend. Could she read the agony on his face underneath the mask of disinterest?

"Oh, Nathaniel asked me for a date." How could she be so calm about the thing that was causing him to die inside? Sensing his distress, his avatar also keeled over and died. Round sixteen ended in defeat.

"Oh? That's..." He gulped. What question would just a friend ask? "When's the big-" He forced the word out. "-date?" That had sounded awful. The words and his delivery.

"I turned him down," she said casually, and just as casually she slaughtered his character again.

The next round began as Adrien blurted out a thrilled, "Really?!"

Marinette's character killed itself by jumping off the edge as she dropped her controller and turned to stare at him.

Adrien cleared his throat. "Really? Too bad for him, I guess." I'm cool about this, Marinette. Not interested in you or your love life at all. His unasked question hung over them: Why did she turn Nathaniel down? He couldn't bring himself to ask.

She continued to stare, considering him, then turned away with a smile she couldn't quite hold in. "I've wiped the floor with you for the past eighteen levels. You want to go again, or are you ready to admit your defeat?”

"And let you rub it in for the rest of our lives? I don't think so."

"I promise not to if you agree to do my homework for the rest of the year."

"I would absolutely love to never do that ever. Bring on level nineteen."

"Oh, that's what I was hoping you would say." Her glance was sly, and Adrien felt a challenge coming on.

Their characters were whirls of pixels, but this time he had no problem keeping up. She'd turned Nathaniel down! Adrien was back on form, matching Marinette stroke for stroke, about to pull out his first win since-

"I bet you were wondering why I said no." Marinette's avatar slipped a punch over his slack fists, knocking him down to half health with one blow. "It's because I already like someone else." With one more kick, she finished him off.

Adrien gripped his controller, not seeing the screen or even her as the next level started playing. Of course she already liked someone. Someone as loving as Marinette would have someone she loved. He'd never even had a chance, even before he'd wanted one. He was an idiot for not realizing.

"Complete devastation!" Marinette said. She meant his character, but she could have been talking about the boy sitting next to her. Both were crumbling to the ground.

The practice session ended early that day. Marinette sent him several questioning looks over the next hour that he stubbornly ignored, and he was glad she didn't push him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand her sympathy.

Like the gentleman he was, Adrien walked her to his bedroom door. Even with the awkward tension lingering in the air, he wanted her to stay a little longer. Maybe sensing that, or maybe just still hoping to cheer him up, Marinette hesitated in front of the closed doorway.

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but when he realized he had no idea what it was he wanted to say, he shut it again slowly. Marinette waited patiently, playing with the hem of her shirt. What could he tell her? Nothing that would help his situation. Nothing that would change her mind about whatever wonderful guy she had her eye on. Nothing that would make her consider her dork of a gaming partner.

Marinette smiled up at him. After the miserable company he'd been all afternoon, she still felt like smiling at him? He almost blurted all his feelings out anyway.

"Well..." she said. "I should go."

Pushing herself up on her toes so she could reach and putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, Marinette placed an unexpected kiss on his cheek, just next to his mouth.

Adrien closed his eyes at the tender touch, heart melting.

I could turn my head, he thought as her lips lingered. I could wrap my arms around her and never let go. The scene was vivid in his mind, her hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, fingertips tracing the stripes across his shirt. Whispers of how much she loved him. Him pulling Marinette close, her wanting him to.

But it wasn't real. She wouldn't like that, he reminded himself, so he kept still. His hands gripped his jeans to keep them from seeking her out.

When she pulled away a few seconds later, her look was intense. Despite her announced intention to leave, she hesitated. Waiting for something. For him to say something?

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. Confess! He could do it!

He could, but he shouldn't. She'd just admitted to liking someone else. How disrespectful of her confession would telling her now be? Adrien didn't want to lose her.

"See you tomorrow?" he said, pulling the door open for her.

She frowned, not like she was angry. Like she'd been disappointed. Without another word, she slipped through the door and padded down the wide atrium stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her the whole time, but she didn't turn around to see it. From his spot so far away, he heard the front door click softly behind her.

He stayed put long after she'd gone, replaying the kiss in his mind, what her soft lips felt like, the tingle he'd felt as she'd rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the heat of having her body so close to his.

Had it been all his imagination, telling him what he wanted, or had her kiss really been that close to his mouth? It had felt like she'd almost touched his lips she'd been so close.

The memory was still fresh on his skin, and he outlined the spot hesitantly, then with awe as his finger brushed the corner of his mouth. It wasn't his imagination. She really had.

Maybe... maybe he had misunderstood. Hope bubbled up inside him. She liked someone else, someone other than Nathaniel. He wasn't Nathaniel. What if she'd meant him?

What if he did have a chance after all?

***

Adrien wanted to be absolutely sure. Getting his hopes up again, or listening to Marinette's rejection, would be too painful. He was going to make sure he was the one, so he spent the next week looking for clues that he was the lucky boy she'd set her sights on.

And clues were everywhere.

They were mostly little things, like the way her face would light up when he came around a corner, or how she leaned into his touch when he dared to brush her bangs out of her eyes, or how she didn't scoot away if he sat down close to her.

Four days later, in the middle of a hard level, he experimentally touched his hand to her knee, keeping the pressure as light as he could, in case it wasn't wanted. She scooted closer, like she wanted to make it easier for him to do it again.

Marinette knew about his strict diet and would often bring him goodies, leftovers from the bakery. The following day, she'd brought him ones she'd made herself "with love." That's what she said. The big L word. A small part of him told him to calm down. She could have meant that she loved him as a friend. Most of him excitedly took it as an obvious hint.

Overall, his second favorite hint of her feelings was how she glowed under his compliments.

"These pastries are the best things I've ever tasted! Could you teach me to make them?" Marinette stumbled over her words for the next five minutes.

"Forget competing in the Olympics," he said two days later. "You could be the team coach. You're amazing!" She blushed for the rest of the day.

The best hint, the one that left him reeling, was becoming a common occurrence: she talked to him. Lately, their practice sessions would be filled with long stretches when they chatted about everything and nothing, controllers abandoned.

Today, she lounged on his couch, and he sat on the floor by her head. She'd asked him about his day, and he'd listened to hers, though she admitted herself that it was boring. She'd asked him about his day, then about his dreams for the future.

The honest curiosity she had for his answers, the fact that she even cared, left him leaning the couch for support. Marinette was on her back and smiled up at him as the movement brought him closer.

The conversation hit a lull when he ran out of things to say. Instead of feeling awkward, it was peaceful, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

What a perfect time to test her feelings for him again. Before he could think better of it, he ran his fingers through her hair. Her reaction was immediate. Her whole body relaxed, her smile widening. When she opened her eyes to look up at him, they were soft, maybe even loving.

But the "maybe" was still too daunting, and he pulled his hand back and looked away.

He needed to tell her how he felt. He liked her too much not to. He wanted her to look at him like that all the time. So why was he pulling out the controllers again to avoid her? Was it really better to wait and see what happened? Or should he just lay his heart bare right now?

He settled on the couch next to her, Marinette bending her knees to give him room without moving from her spot. Was she still giving him that loving look? Or had it turned into a frown because he was being a coward? He hunched forward under the weight of all his questions, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I bet I could beat you in my sleep," Marinette said. Her voice sounded normal, so he dared to look at her. Her face was mischievous as she stretched out with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her legs across his lap and pinning his arms down. "Care to bet against me?"

"Um, move. I need those arms."

"Make me."

Two more hints: the ease with which she touched him, and the way she seemed to save her most dazzling smiles just for him.

"Make you?" Massive crush or not, Adrien was not about to pass up a challenge. "I'll make you."

Marinette settled deeper into the cushions, pressing down onto his arms. It was the best trap he'd even been in, and he couldn't reach much to help him, just the coffee table in front of them. Leftover snacks littered the table, along with a half-filled glass of water. He slid it off the edge of the couch as Marinette squirmed to keep him in place.

With his limited movement, he couldn't lift the cup very high, so he mimed pouring it over her shins. She shrieked and kicked him in her scramble to get out of the way, and the glass spun out of his hand, splashing water all over him before landing on the floor. It soaked into his shirt and dripped through his hair.

"I'm sorry!" Marinette jumped up immediately, flapping her arms around her head so fast they blurred. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," he assured her while rivulets of water tickled his down scalp. "It wasn't that much water."

She groaned at the lie. "I'll go get you a towel."

Before he could protest, she ran toward the bathroom door. Adrien followed her, dripping. "It was my fault. Please don't-"

A fluffy towel muffled his words as she threw it over his head and started rubbing it into his hair. "Marinette," he mumbled. "You don't have t-" The pace of her hands became less frantic as she moved from the crown of his head, moving down to dry the back.

"Sorry," she whispered. Her tempo became even slower as she worked the sides of his heads, rubbing gently so she wouldn't hurt his ears. Plans to "accidentally" get himself soaked on a weekly basis were already starting to form in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the attention she was paying him or her rhythmic pace as she stroked circles around his ears, but every muscle in his body seemed to be melting.

"Is that any better?" she asked. Her hands stilled, but she didn't remove the towel from his face. Her breathing was quick and shallow.

Adrien lifted up the edge to reveal Marinette's panicked face. What did she think? That he was going to hate her because of some water? He wasn't a cat.

Her eyes searched his, looking for anger or rejection or who knew what, and he gently grabbed her face with both hands to bring her back to reality. And as an excuse to act out at least the beginning of every fantasy he had about kissing her. With the way she was looking at him, he could even pretend that they were about to come true.

"It's fine," he said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. "I'm all dry now." A cold spot was soaking through at his shoulder, but he ignored it.

After a few more seconds of wide-eyed staring, Marinette slid the towel off his head and looped it behind his neck, holding onto both ends and giving no indication that she wanted him to remove his hands. So he didn't.

Another clue. It finally was enough. He knew.

Leaning in slowly, so she would have time to change her mind, he looked at her lips, then raised an eyebrow in question. Marinette used the towel to pull him closer to her, closing her eyes. A rush of heat swooped in his stomach when he felt her body brush against him. Her breath fanned his face as he inched closer. They hovered, anticipation building, noses brushing, lips quivering, until he tilted his head and finally closed his eyes.

Without warning, the door swung open. "Adrien."

Marinette and Adrien jumped apart, the towel falling on the floor.

Nathalie walked in, staring at her tablet and almost ignoring the teenagers she was speaking to. She hadn't noticed anything. "Your piano teacher is here. Ms. Dupain-Cheng's ride is waiting downstairs." Without another word, or even looking around the room for them, she left, leaving the door open after her.

"Um," Adrien said. Cursing the interruption, he bent to pick up the towel. When he straightened he reached out for Marinette's hand, but she was already across the room, picking up her things and not looking at him, her face glowing red.

She snuck him a peek once as she was putting her shoes back on, but when she saw him staring at her, she looked down again. Probably because he was gaping at her like an idiot.

Marinette finally walked back over to him, eyeing the wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-

"Want a hug?" he asked, offering his arms. "It's nice and cold."

She chuckled as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his. "Thanks for having me over." Her breath blew his hair, tickling him. "And for letting me beat you."

"Oh, yes," he said. The hug didn't feel cold at all. It was warming him up from head to toe. "I lost on purpose, just for you." How was he supposed to just let her walk out his door, when all he wanted to do was hold her and never move from this spot again? "Because your happiness is so important to me."

As she pulled away and stepped back, he grabbed her hand, and then just as quickly let it go, unsure how to recreate the mood that had so quickly evaporated.

They waited, neither moving, Adrien hoping for at least another goodbye kiss like she'd given him last week. Without warning her expression crumpled, and she walked through the door without saying goodbye at all.

She'd been waiting, he realized as soon as she was gone. She'd been waiting for a goodbye kiss, too.

Adrien ran to the window in time to watch her walk down the front steps. He followed her with his eyes as she slid into the car. When she turned to pull the door closed behind her, she paused, looking straight at him. He waved, but she shut it without returning the gesture.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. It was Saturday, and they had another practice in the morning. The first words out of his mouth were going to be his confession.

He just needed to figure out what to say.

***

Saturday mornings used to mean stifling isolation. There was no school to look forward to. His tutors often had the day off, and if there wasn't a photoshoot, he was likely to be confined to his room. Another benefit of having Marinette in his life was that he was no longer alone on the oppressive weekends.

"You're smart, and kind, and funny." Adrien muttered to himself in the back seat, his driver occasionally looking at him with concern through the rearview mirror. He'd been rehearsing multiple versions of his speech since last night. It was only a few minutes until he saw her, and he still hadn't decided what to say. Should he just blurt it out? "Marinette, I love you." Or should he build up to it? "I've loved spending time with you, and you're my best friend, and lately you've become more than that." He tested them both out. They were both fine, so why did they both sound so... wrong?

Maybe he wasn't being specific enough. Anyone could tell her she was great. So what should he say about her specifically? This only led him back to all the other lists of rehearsed lines he'd come up with in the last 12 hours, her confidence, her infectious joy, her compassion...

The car pulled up to the curb, and Adrien stepped out, knees a little wobbly with anxiety. He was going to have to just wing it. Say what felt right in the moment. Which was a terrifying idea, but now he had no choice.

The bell tinkled and the smell of fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies filled his nose as soon as he pushed open the bakery door. Sabine and Tom turned to him with wide smiles.

"She's already waiting for you," Sabine said, waving him through the door to their upstairs apartment. "Have fun!"

His footsteps seemed to echo through the small hallway. Hesitating only a second, he knocked on the door that led into her living room, and waited, heart pounding.

Marinette, I have something to tell you. Marinette, I love you. Marinette, before we start to play, can we talk? He'd promised himself. The first words out of his mouth would be his confession. Don't mess it up, Adrien. Just tell her you love her.

The door was yanked inward so fast that it hit the wall. Adrien jumped. "M-marinette. I lo-"

"I've got a new idea! Come here!" She reached through the doorway and clamped down on his wrist, then turned and towed him through the living room and up her stairs. A woman on a mission.

He had no idea what that mission was, or what really was happening, so his imagination started supplying possibilities. She got a new game? She needed to show him her newest art project? He tripped on the top step when he thought that maybe she was dragging him up to her room because she couldn't wait to kiss him.

He imagined her snapping the trapdoor shut, with the pink curtains closed and her room dimly lit by filtered light. She would let go of his hand, then turn around to face him, before slowly stepping into his space. She'd slide her hands up his shirt, stopping at the collar, grabbing fistfuls to pull herself closer. And closer. Their faces were millimeters apart. He could count the lashes of her half-closed eyes. He reached for her eagerly, wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her closer, her stomach flush against him.

"I love you," she whispered. "You're the only one for me." Her lips parted slightly as her eyes slid shut.

Marinette's voice was suddenly bright and cheery. "Pick your favorite button!"

Adrien's daydream popped.

Sunlight flooded her room through uncovered windows. Her trapdoor was still open, as her parents had always requested, and she waited for an answer expectantly, bouncing on her toes and not looking smitten in the slightest.

"Uh, what?"

"Buttons," she repeated. "Which one's your favorite?"

She'd dragged him upstairs for sewing help. He cleared his throat and smoothed out the collar of his shirt, which hadn't been rumpled by her hands.

"I've never thought about it," he said, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "Flat buttons are probably the easiest to sew with, but Father says shank buttons are almost as easy, and I think they look... What?"

Marinette was laughing at him. "No, your favorite controller button, you goof." She waved one in front of his face. The A button had been taped down. Taking it in both hands again, she mimed playing an intense round. Enthusiasm bubbled off of her. He had no idea what this was about, but he was already on board with whatever it was. (Even if it wasn't kissing.)

"I'm confused." And also in love with you.

It was too late for his confession to be the first thing out of his mouth. His fingers itched to touch her, but she was too excited to let him interrupt.

"See, we're getting too good. We need a new way to push ourselves, so I thought, give ourselves a handicap." She pointed at the incapacitated button. "And go head-to-head. What do you think?"

"I think that's amazing."

As soon as the moment passed, he'd realized what a perfect opportunity he'd missed. Marinette was scrambling across her room to tape down the B on his controller. "You're," he whispered, too quiet for her to hear. "I think you're amazing."

"Catch!" The controller flew, and he caught it deftly. Marinette flopped onto the chaise, leaning sideways against the cushioned back, leaving enough room for him to sit at the end, if he didn't mind her feet poking his thigh, which he definitely did not.

The computer monitor flickered as Marinette scrolled through the settings. Adrien leaned forward as the round began, trying to ignore the way her toes jabbed him when he got a hit on her. It didn't happen very often. The handicap was almost impossible to play with. Marinette won every round easily. At the end of the fourth round, she covered a fake yawn and stretched lazily, and he finally realized something important.

"You practiced this beforehand, you dirty cheater!"

Marinette laughed wickedly as his character was knocked out again.

"You're almost as good as I am now, young grasshopper. I've got to maintain my superiority somehow!"

"We both know that isn't true." He swiped for her hands, but she was too fast, moving the controller out of his reach. "Give yourself a second handicap."

"Make me," she said, her feet pushing against him to press herself further into the back of the chaise.

"Give it."

"No."

He leaned over her legs and into her space, but she kept the controller away from him, grinning wildly. Feigning defeat, Adrien leaned back. When Marinette lowered it into her lap, he pounced forward, but she was still too quick, lifting both hands behind her head, hiding it out of sight.

"Hand it over!"

"No!"

He reached, and she leaned back farther, one elbow poking his cheek. Pushing into her, he strained to get the controller, and she arched underneath him to keep it away.

His arms were longer than hers. He should have been able to get it. His fingers found her wrists, and he slid them up to find her fingers.

A warm breath on his cheek made him stop. He was face-to-face with Marinette. He was nearly lying on top of her, pressing her into the chaise. They were both breathing hard, though they'd barely moved. One of her pigtails was loose.

"It's not fair," he said, mouth dry. "You need to make it even."

She lifted her head, until her face filled his vision and their noses touched. "Make me." Her lips brushed his with each word.

He kissed her.

Every longing moment, every loving thought he'd ever had about her poured through him into his kiss. Again and again his lips found hers. Somewhere, a controller clattered to the floor, and then her hands were on him, in his hair, splayed against his neck, pulling him closer, and he kissed her harder, caressing her face, pulling out her loose pigtail so he could feel her soft hair between his fingers.

Kissing a line from the corner of her mouth to ear and back, he asked, "Have I sufficiently dazed you?"

She hummed dreamily in response.

Kissing just below her ear, he asked, "Think you can play like this?"

A whisper. "No."

Taking his time, he worked his way back across her cheek, making sure to kiss every inch until he reached the corner of her lips, but he stopped just shy of them, gently kissing her nose instead. "Good."

Somehow, he managed to pull himself off of her. Marinette clutched at his shirt, trying to get him to come back, but he circled the chaise and retrieved her controller, holding it out to her. He loved the way her fingers hovered over her mouth as her eyes wandered up his arm. When her eyes reached his lips, her fingers pressed down hard, like it was the only way she could stop herself from kissing him again.

"Up for another round?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the computer screen.

"Yes, but not of that." She scowled. Half of her hair was loose around her shoulder.

"Let me win this game and you have a deal."

"Never."

"Poor, Marinette," he said, settling down next to her and clicking Start. "No more kisses for you."

Ten seconds into the round and Adrien already knew his plan was going to end badly. His hands were shaking. Marinette's character wobbled. Every time he licked his lips, he could still taste her.

And she had realized that if she rubbed her toes against his hip, he would jump and look over at her. The first time she did it, he was unsure if it had been on purpose, but the second, he turned to find a sly smile waiting for him. This girl was going to drive him crazy.

"I don't think much of your tactics," she said a minute later, as her character finished him off. It had taken three times longer than normal because they were both awful. "You're clearly just as dazed as I am."

"Not nearly enough," he said. Tossing the controller onto the desk, he reached for her waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair.

One of his hands stayed at her waist, the other reached up and pulled her other pigtail loose. "You really do look good like this," he breathed.

"You love me," she giggled. "Admit it."

He leaned forward, forehead resting on hers, eyes locked. "Make me."

"Oh, believe me-" Marinette's voice was a low whisper, and Adrien felt a thrill. "I will."

***

Author’s note: This might just be my new favorite thing I’ve ever written. :) I wrote this in response to a poll I took a zillion years ago. It’s finally here! Thank you @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs and @actuallycannotflirt for beta’ing this one! I know it was long, and I truly appreciate the help!

@tbehartoo

#adrinette #adrienette #ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #no miraculous au

590 notes · View notes

softomi · 3 years

Text

happier

lyric prompt: then only for a minute, I want to change my mind, cause this just don’t feel right to me.

song: Happier (Stripped) by Marshmello and Bastille

pairings: oikawa x reader, osamu x reader

general taglist: @graykageyama

special mentions: @peachysatoru

Thank you for calling Engineering The Mind, please listen to the following options and select the option that applies to you. press one if you are inquiring our Love services, press two if you are inquiring our Mental Health services, press three if you are inquiring our Synaptic Pruning services, please stay on the line for a representative to assist you.

You’ve pressed three, please stay on the line and one of our representatives will be with you shortly.

“Good morning and thank you for choosing our Synaptic Pruning service, could I get your name and date of birth?”

“Actually, I have a question?”

“Yes?”

“If I wanted to erase someone from my memory, am I able to do that?”

“Yes! As long as there is consent from both parties.”

“But can I do it myself?”

“Unfortunately, the procedure requires both parties to consent and participate, the new law states it is considered illegal to synaptically prune another person from your memory without the other party’s consent.”

“Is there a way I can notify the person without personally contacting them?”

“Of course, as long as you know their name, date of birth, and social, then we can reach out to the other party to inform them that you have started the forms for a synaptic pruning procedure and they will have 30 days from the day of their notification to begin their forms.”

“What happens if they reject?”

“If the other party rejects, then unfortunately we cannot move forward with the procedure.”

“Okay. I’d like to start a form and have them be notified.”

“Perfect, let me just quickly get the information of the other party. What is their relationship to you?”

“Ex-husband.”

“Name of the other party?”

“Oikawa Tooru.”

His luggage drags against the airport’s floor, the sunglasses on his face protects against the amount of camera flashes. Oikawa waves to the cameras, waving to fans, momentarily stopping to take in the bustling Japan airport. Home felt so distant for him.

“Is it true you’re here for a procedure?” A reporter is walking alongside him.

Oikawa merely smiles, “No. I’m just here on vacation, I missed Japan so much, the last time I was here I wasn’t able to do many of the things I wanted to. I’d appreciate it if I am treated as any other citizen.”

“There’s rumors that you’re in Japan to possibly be scouted for one of the Japanese teams, care to explain?”

Oikawa stops, staring directly at the camera, “Like I said, I’m here on vacation and on my own dime. I’m here to attend a wedding of a very close friend and have no plans on looking into other teams, but I can assure you, I plan on playing for the Argentinian team for as long as I can.”

“Do you think your previous injury will affect your current position on the Argentinian national team?”

Another reporter manages to squeeze in, “It’s been almost a year since your injury, are you considering retiring your number if your injury doesn’t improve?”

Oikawa laughs. The television screen cuts off. He’s been in Japan for almost a week now, at least that’s all you know of since he had texted you once he had arrived. From what you can gather through social media, he wasn’t in town. He was frolicking through his childhood neighborhood, meeting friends and family who haven’t seen him since the Olympics.

It’s early morning in your home, the sheets hug you with warmth, you’ve been awake for some time and if you were honest, you didn’t think you slept at all. Ever since he’s stepped foot back into the country, you haven’t been able to sleep properly.

The head on your chest stirs and the male’s breathing falls steady back into slumber. His body is entangled with yours, body weight practically all on top of you, and his breathing brings a sense of dread in you for a moment. It feels similar to him.

You lift your arms, holding out your hands in front of you to gaze at the small diamond. It’s tucked between your pinkie and middle finger, it’s bright and beautiful just like he was promising your future with him would be.

He, your current lover; the man you absolutely loved and adored. The man who spent the last five years keeping you sane.

“Osamu.” Your fingers tugged his hair lightly, “It’s time to wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He tightens his grip around your waist, “I just want five more minutes with you.”

Your finger drags along his spine, “You say that every morning.” You slap your palm on his back and he groans, “You have to open the restaurant soon.”

He hums, eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness. It’s too early in the morning, “You’re going in for a check up today?”

Your fingers that play with his hair stops, “Yes.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It was your decision, something Osamu had reminded you a hundred times. The decision to try and erase someone from your memory; he always found it to be a hard pill to swallow. But it was something you thought about a million times, it kept you awake at night, and even when you called a few weeks ago to start the process, it felt surreal.

Osamu lifts himself, leaning on his forearm to peer down at you, his beautiful bride to be, “I can still close the shop and come with you.”

He was an absolute sweetheart, “I told you I’ll be fine. And you can’t close the restaurant every time I go to the hospital?”

He brings his lips to meet yours, “Is that a challenge?”

You laugh against his kiss, “Go get ready or else.”

“Or else what?” He straddles your legs, pressing kisses on your neck to your chest. His fingers ride up his shirt you’ve declared yours, pressing his lips along your abdomen, “Good morning.”

“Call me if anything happens.” Osamu presses a chaste kiss to your lips at the doorway, “I like you.”

Your lips are in a grin, “and I like you too.”

The door shuts behind him and you’re left alone with your thoughts. If you were correct, you’d be seeing him again. Oikawa should be meeting you at the hospital. You’ve texted him a reminder. It’s marked as read; he doesn’t bother to respond.

The sound of a buzzer makes you jump, it draws you to the look at the video cam that views the front gates. You’re grinning thinking Osamu has forgotten something, but the smile gets wiped off when it’s him. Oikawa Tooru is standing at the gates of your home.

“What are you doing here?” You speak into the microphone.

Oikawa seems to have discovered the camera, “Can’t visit anymore? I thought we could catch up.”

What reason would there be to catch up? If everything goes smoothly, you’ll be without a thought of him in the next few days. You’re reluctant to let him in, you want to tell him to go away, but you’d have to meet him later any way. The gates buzz open and Oikawa enters the front yard of the home.

It’s exactly the same to him, after all, this was his and your home first. The Oikawa residence. He bought the house without your knowledge, saved up as much of his paychecks could get him.

“May I come in?” Oikawa smiles upon seeing you.

You’re holding the front door, still small as ever, like you were guarding the home with your life, “Yes.” Your voice is tiny, giving him room to enter the house.

Oikawa takes in the smell of the place, still the same, still has your scent and he concludes you’re probably still lighting the same scented candles he liked. He wonders if he should be flattered by the information.

“Do you want something to drink?” You inquire, pulling out a mug to pour yourself water and another mug for whatever Oikawa wanted, “Peach tea?”

It was his favorite; you can remember it as clear as day. He’d drink it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He said it paired nicely with the milk bread and he called it sweet; just like you. You shake the memory as you pour the hot water.

There was nothing but awkwardness between the both of you. You’ve distracted yourself with your morning routine and Oikawa silently sits. If he’s going to fantasize for a second, he’s pretending you’re still his wife. Shamelessly daydreaming like you were his.

“We have to be at the hospital by noon.” You say without looking at him, your head dipping back as you slip the pills into your mouth.

“Sounds good to me.” Oikawa taps his fingers against the dining table.

It brings back memories of dinner with you, on days when he would be able to find a week off practice to see you. You’d eat with him until two in the morning, trying to squeeze in as much time with him as possible before he hopped on a plane back to Argentina, and he would pretend as if he didn’t hear you crying while washing the dishes.

“So how have you been?” Oikawa asks innocently.

You drink the rest of your water, a simple nod of your head, “Fine.” Your gaze falls briefly on his knee, “And you?”

Oikawa instinctively puts a hand over his knee as if that could hide the ache, “Fine too.”

Yet Oikawa and you know, everything was far from fine. It was the same way towards the end of the marriage, communication was blurred, there was too many missed connections, and the only news you’d get of Oikawa was from the sports channels.

“Do you still work at the public library?”

You tilt your head at him, “You mean the university library? When I was doing work study?”

“Oh.” Oikawa rubs the back of his neck, “Guess you’re not”. He’s trying to think why it feels so hard to talk to you again, “How are your parents?”

You freeze and he realizes his mistake. He remembers the arguments, the sadness of the conversations, the way your parents loathed him for proposing so early. Oikawa married you fresh out of high school, he promised you happiness and yet towards the end of the marriage, he shattered your heart.

“They’re great!” You smile, “They really love my fiancé.”

You were purposely trying to hurt him.

“What’s he like?” Oikawa was curious or was he jealous?

“What do you want Tooru?” Your voice is sharp as you set down your mug, “Why are you here?” You know him too well, he doesn’t do things just because; he always has a motive, “Are you here to try and stop me? I want to move on.”

“Then why can’t you do it yourself? Why do you feel like you need to erase me?” Oikawa, he was sad. He had never felt more crushed than when he had received the phone call; you were requesting to remove him from your mind and he’d only accepted to see you again. He wanted you to look him in the face, feel the hurt that he had, “Did you not think of my feelings?”

“No, you didn’t think of mine when you naturalized as an Argentinian citizen.”

It was always the same argument, Oikawa stares at you, it wasn’t that different from years ago. When he blinks, he’s transported to seven years ago. Your eyes red as you looked at him, the fighting was reaching two hours and the bags in Oikawa’s hands signals he’d be leaving for another few month. But this day was different, the fight was wearing you down, especially when you read news of Oikawa becoming a naturalized citizen. Oikawa blinks and he’s back to the sun lit room.

“This isn’t how you move on from a relationship?” Oikawa says, “It takes time.” Time was seven years, since the divorce seven years of broken hearts have passed. Oikawa knows deep down that you still loved him and he knows in his heart that he wants to ask you to run away with him, “You know that this is wrong.”

“But it’s my choice.”

Oikawa’s eyes begin to water, “And you’re making me choose too?” Tears fall from his cheek, “It’s your choice but you’re forcing me to choose also.” His chest becomes heavy, “Please don’t do this.” He openly sobbing in front of you, “I don’t want to stop.” His wail makes your heart clench, “I don’t want to forget what it was like to love you.”

“Tooru.”

“I don’t care.” Oikawa blubbers, “I’m not going to do it.” A pit grows in your stomach, “All I ever did was love you.”

Your eyes glossy, it was like you were going back to the worst nights of your life, “You stopped caring about me.”

“No, I didn’t!” Oikawa stands, “I never stopped. I was doing everything for you!” He was a tearful mess in front of you, “You left me! You abandoned me!”

“You can’t say that when you were halfway across the world!”

“For you!” Oikawa screams, “If you had waited one more year, I could have brought you over.”

You wipe the tears from your face, a sigh on your lips, “Why didn’t you just ask me to go with you in the first place?”

It was always the question that nipped at you. When he was confronted with the opportunity of staying in Japan or joining an Argentinian team, he never hesitated and you waited for him to ask you to go with him; but he left you behind with the house, sending money every two weeks like you were an afterthought.

“It was complicated.” Oikawa’s eyes soften, “I just, I didn’t want you to leave behind your life here. Your friends, your family. You would have had to quit school to come with me, to a place where you didn’t know the language or the place, and with me practicing, you would have no one.”

You shake your head, “No. You were worried about yourself. You made the decision to leave me behind without a second thought because you wanted to focus on volleyball and where has that gotten you; injured.”

Maybe that was why you wanted so badly to erase him from your memories, you still clung to the thoughts of him. Still stayed updated on his life, still worried about his health, still wondering on the what ifs with him. What if you had just left with him? What if you hadn’t gotten married to him? What if you weren’t so hopelessly still in love with him?

“Just let me be happy.” You whisper, “Just let me forget I was ever in love with you.”

The ride to the hospital ached. The cab silent and melancholy. It was only a consultation and yet it already felt like the end of everything. The waiting area didn’t make it any better, the air was thick with tension from other couples. Oikawa’s status had the two of you placed priority and it didn’t take long for a doctor to come into the room.

“I would like to inform you that we use the term ‘erasing memory’ loosely. Our procedure merely detaches you from the other party. You’ll still have the memories, but you won’t feel anything, and you won’t remember them as much as you might today.” The doctor hands you and Oikawa separate forms, “If you both sign the consent forms, we can schedule the procedure as soon as possible.”

The pen in Oikawa’s hands hover over the signature line, he can hear you scribbling against the paper and his heart is shattering. Sloppily, he signs his name on the line.

“Sorry, I forgot to ask.” You look at the doctor, “Is the procedure safe for pregnant women?”

Oikawa’s world crumbles.

“The procedure is set for tomorrow morning.” The receptionist is talking.

You smile, “Perfect, thank you.”

She prints out two different instructions for you and Oikawa to prepare for the procedure. You overlook the instructions, no longer sparing a glance to Oikawa as you walk away.

“Hey.” The voice makes your head snap up. Your fiancé walking towards you.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck, “What are you doing here?”

Osamu presses a kiss to your temple, “I came to pick you up.” He looks over your shoulder, spotting the man he knows too well from various photos, “Hi.” He reaches out to Oikawa, “I’m Miya Osamu.”

Oikawa grips Osamu’s hand, “ Oikawa Tooru. It’s nice to meet you.” Oikawa says bitterly.

Osamu’s hand rests on your hip, in a matter of seconds, he’s leading you away and Oikawa is left to stand all alone.

The night is restless. It’s instructed that you and Oikawa get a good night’s rest, but who can rest soundly the night before a procedure. You sitt on the edge of your bed, your fiancé sleeping soundly, and you stare at the moon. You play with the ring on your finger and a tear lands on the back of your hand. You suck in a heavy breath, trying to quell the sound of sobs.

Oikawa sits knees to his chest on the couch of Iwaizumi’s who was gracious enough to let him stay at his place. The moon is bright, and it shines a spotlight on Oikawa. His eyes are tired, but he stares at the screen of his cell phone, finger swiping continuously through the photo album. Your smiles reflect in his eyes and even when Iwaizumi snags the cell phone from him; Oikawa looks up at him bawling.

Six in the morning, you’re sitting on a hospital bed, Oikawa laid next to you. The silence is deafening.

“I hope you know.” Oikawa whispers, “I’m very happy for you.”

You look at him, taking in what might be the last time you feel love for him, “I love you.”

Oikawa smiles, “No you don’t,” He’s tricking himself, believing that you loathed him, that this was the better option for you, “but I love you too.”

They say, the longer the relationship, the longer the procedure takes. Similarly, the more you loved, the harder it was to subdue the memories. It required patients to stay awake, to go through every little detail, to talk about everything from the beginning to the end.

Your fingers were initially interlocked with his, something to help the anxiousness, or was it to cling to him for a moment.

“I met you when you came to cheer on the volleyball team in high school.” Oikawa stares at the white ceiling, he hears the machinery, the typing of a computer, “You looked so pretty.” The memory becomes hazy.

“He kissed me on the school’s rooftop.” Your lips curved in a smile, “He kept asking me if it was alright.” Your smile slowly falls to a thin line, “I suddenly can’t remember what I said back.”

“It took me a week to find the perfect ring.”

You laugh, “You got impatient, proposed with a paper ring on the school’s rooftop after we snuck into the school after dark.”

It feels empty, your heart feels a weight lifted. Your fingers slowly let go of Oikawa’s. He begins to weep.

“Why are you crying?” You ask.

He sniffles, “Was that the last time you felt happy with me?”

“No.” Your voice soft, “I was always happy when you came home.” There’s another weight off your heart, “You always came in running, always excited to see me. Sometimes, when the front door opens, I think it’s going to be you.” You’re hit with relief.

Four weeks pass in a blur. You honestly don’t remember much of the week after the procedure, but you stare at your loving fiancé. A hearty giggle on your lips as you move to straddle him on the bed. Your palms are squishing his cheeks and Osamu is chuckling. His hand resting on your small baby bump.

“We’re getting married!” You’re kissing him, excitedly jumping on him as though you weren’t knocking the wind out of him.

“Alright.” Osamu sits up, lips stealing your breath away, “by the end of the day, you’ll be Mrs. Miya.”

You laugh into the kiss, “I can’t wait.”

The wedding venue is bustling, everyone is itching to take a picture with the bride and groom. You’re grinning widely at the way Osamu bickers with his brother, the photographer taking photos despite the twins poking at each other.

“May we take a picture with the bride?”

Your smile grows; four men dressed in their best suits approach, “Is this a high school reunion?”

One man lingers briefly behind, your husband presses a hand to the small of your back before leaving. Oikawa takes over the place of your spouse.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Oikawa tilts his head with a beam.

You roll your eyes, “At my own wedding.”

His voice falls to a whisper, “Are you happy?”

Your eyes stare in the direction of your husband and you nod, “Yes.” When you look at Oikawa, there’s a small tug in your heart, it’s tiny enough that it disappears within moments, “Thank you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa #oikawa scenarios #oikawa tooru #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #hq #hq scenarios #hq oikawa

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Arvin Russell - The preacher’s sins (1/2)

Requested by an anon, please enjoy it! It was too long, so I divided it in two parts. I’ll post the next one tomorrow!

Plot: there is nothing bigger for you than the love you feel for Arvin Russell. Not a lot of people can awaken what he does in you, with his cheeky smile and chocolate eyes. Now, a stranger threatens to break that bond, manipulating where it hurts the most.

Warnings: It’s the devil all the time, and you know the preacher. So if you’re reading this, it’s because you’re alright with what’s about to happen. Anyway, violence and manipulation.

Arvin’s car was waiting for you when your shift at the café ended. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face when you thought about the upcoming events; a whole weekend just for the two of you, in your house since your parents were away in a business travel. That meant you could sleep in the same bed, have your own space and dream about finally moving in together. As you crossed the street jogging, your bag hanging from your left shoulder, you thought you could get used to it.

He was smoking, looking ahead and lost in his thoughts. Some wild strands of hair had fallen on his face, making him look a bit more childish that usually. Arvin Russell looked as handsome as ever, and for two whole days, would be handsome only for you.

“Arv” you announced your presence when you climbed in the seat beside him, rubbing your arms in an attempt to get ride of the rain’s coldness.

“Hey, pretty girl”

Arvin dropped his denim jacket over you, and while you put it on, he threw his cigarrete through the window’s car, moving his hand around to get ride of the smoke. Once he made sure you wouldn’t choke with it, he closed the car’s windows and looked at you with a half-smile.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening” you giggled softly, enjoying that moment of excitement and peace.

“Hope ya haven’ changed your mind” Arvin quickly pressed his lips against your cheek, before starting the car. “How was work?”

As you started talking about a cute dog which owner had let you pet, Arvin drove you to your house. He managed to listen to the story, drive safely and sneak a hand so that he could hold yours.

During most of the weeks, it was hard to see him. He was busy with his family and his part times job, taking what he could to earn a little money. Lenora took a lot of his time too, because she often got picked up by the bullies at highschool and Arvin insisted in picking her up every day. Then, he went with her to the grave yard to visit his mother, and he stayed with her until she finished. Sometimes, he would sneak for a few minutes and come visit you in the café, ordering the cheapest thing in the menu and watching you for afar.

Neither of you had a lot of free time. Your family, humble and hard-working, was also very conservative, so even if they accepted your relationship with Arvin, they didn’t like when he stayed at night. His family didn’t have a lot of free space neither, and if they had they didn’t see with good eyes sleeping together before marriage.

That week hadn’t been different. You had been working every afternoon until the sun came down, and then drove back home. The only difference was that you had been stopping briefly at the church, to talk with the new preacher. You knew Arvin didn’t like him – which was why the mood darkened on the way to your house.

“He ain’t good, Y/N” he grumbled, briefly looking at you.

“You don’t know him, it’s just – he’s new here, he needs a chance to prove himself” you defended. “I know what he did to your grandma was wrong, but we can’t judge him by one mistake!”

“It wasn’ just one mistake. He talks and talks ‘bout how everyone is a sinner but ‘im” Arvin protested.

“Arvin, please” you shifted closer to him and placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be just a few minutes. He told me he needed my help with something, you don’t even have to see him.”

The preacher, indeed, had told you the previous day that he wanted to meet you in the church on Friday. You hadn’t told him your plans with Arvin, even if he was kind of interrupting your peaceful weekend with your boyfriend; probably, because you knew he wouldn’t approve you spending the night with him.

Deep inside, you knew that Arvin was probably right; he always was at the end, no matter what he was talking about. He was the one who said that the boy who Lenora’s was after wasn’t a good man, and now he had fun chasing her with a bag and awful words. There was something about the preacher that you didn’t like either, but you still didn’t know what. For now, you wanted to be on his good side.

“So? Can we stop?”

“I’d feel better if not” Arvin scoffed. “But I guess that’s a yes”

Arvin stopped on the graveyard, an empty place where the sun was setting already. It was dark and silent, and even you, who wanted to stop, were starting to reconsider the decision. You looked out the window, seeing that the church’s door was open and a dim light could be seen from the inside. Arvin exited the car without another word, and you knew he was pissed. He wasn’t too keen on sharing his feelings, even more when they weren’t of love or happiness.

You had been dating for seven months officially, and it had been ten since he asked you for a date after your shift at the café. There was no way you could make him talk about it and comfort him before the sun disappeared completely, so you decided to ignore him and walk towards the church. Still, before entering you looked back, half expecting him to be ready to leave and pick you later. But he had lighted up another smoke and was leaning against the car, looking to his feet.

Much less happier than before, you entered the church. You wanted nothing more than Arvin to be happy, and if you were up to wish anything, for him to have a better relationship with the rest of Knockemstiff; starting with the preacher.

He was sitting in the first row, reading from a small book. The faint lights you had seen came from the candles, which made the place much more scarier than usually. You didn’t think anything about it, not even when you made yourself heard by calling him and he told you to close the door. It was a cold, October day, so you guessed there was nothing wrong with it. After looking at Arvin once more, and receiving no smiles, you closed the door behind you.

“What did you want me for, preacher?”

“Come sit with me, Y/N” he patted the bench beside him, and you approached him. “You ever read the bible?”

“Um, a little. Lenora reads to me sometimes, a-and from what I hear on Sundays” you explained, not really wanting to say it out loud.

The truth was that you had never learned how to read. You had had to drop out of highschool at a young age because your mother had fallen ill, and your father couldn’t manage the family business on his own. With no money to buy books or material, your father had you help in on the shop. You were good with numbers, from years of experience, and you were starting to know what some words were written like thanks to Lenora and Arvin. But not a lot of people in Knockemstiff knew that you didn’t write the orders down in the café because you didn’t know how.

The preacher hummed, finally raising his eyes from the small book on his lap. He shifted closer to you, until you were sure you could hear his heartbeat. He showed you what he had been so focused on, and while you knew some of the letters, it all looked like garbage.

“This is my favourite part” he said, his voice soft but with a sharp edge. “Mom used to read it to me every night, too. You know it?”

“U-um, yeah” you said. Quickly, you tried to search for a word that you could understand. Lenora always read to you a passage of the bible when you went to their house, and maybe you could know what was it about. However, the preacher closed the bible before you had time to find it.

“God is merciful and benevolent, Y/N” he stretched one arm behind your shoulders, and you felt tears run to your eyes when you understood he knew it. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of – Arvin had managed to convince you it wasn’t, but you felt embarrassment crawl through your spine. “He forgives us all, all of our sins. But you know what is what he doesn’t forgive? Lies”

The back of your hair was grabbed with so much force that you emitted a low cry. If the door had been open, maybe Arvin would have heard you. But he angrily pacing around the graveyard, thinking about how he shouldn’t be so hard with you, and you were too afraid and embarrassed to scream any louder.

You were met with the preacher’s hard eyes, hateful and unforgivable. The back of your head throbbed from how hard he was gripping it, and finally a lonely tear made its way down your cheek. It seemed to offend him more, because he squeezed harder.

“You think you’re worthy of stepping into this temple?” he hissed, his hot breath making you shudder. “You think I wouldn’t find out that you can’t read? Or that you spend the nights with that boyfriend of yours?”

“Preacher –“

“Shut the fuck up!”

The nice man who you had been talking to the rest of the week disappeared in thin air, and you were thrown to the ground with a force you didn’t know the kind preacher had. A small cry of pain left your lips as your right wrist bent awkwardly against the edge of the bench, and you tried to move away. But the preacher had other ideas, because he hoisted you up until his face was inches away from you again.

You were sure he would just bash your head against the bench and Arvin would only have your cold body for the weekend when his face morphed, and that calm that always surrounded him was back. He sat on the bench again, and put his head against his hands, as if he was in deep thinking. Before you could think about running out of there screaming Arvin’s name, the preacher talked.

“Get naked”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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gnocchighoul · 4 years

Text

Operation Hot Potato

Summary:

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

(You bring home a kitten and try to hide her from Lucifer. Unfortunately for you, nothing gets past the House of Lamentation’s resident pet-hater.)

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Portal

You found a kitten.

Well—kind of. It’s debatable.

You think it’s a kitten. She certainly looks like one—fluffy little thing with snow-white fur, blue eyes, a poofy little triangular head, and the most perfectly pink toe beans you’ve ever had the pleasure of squishing.

The reason why you’re so hesitant to call her a kitten?

She breathes fire. Hiccups fireballs. Sneezes flaming hot streams of… well, flames.

You learned that firsthand ten minutes ago, when you nearly got your eyebrows singed off by a particularly dangerous sneeze. All you wanted to do was give her a smooch on her wittle pink nose, you weren’t expecting to get blasted in the face with an orangey-red inferno.

But you know what? It doesn’t matter if she’s a little strange. You’ve sworn your everlasting love to your newfound daughter—your secret daughter that the demon brothers can absolutely not know about under any circumstances whatsoever, because you just know that Lucifer will make you put her back in the wild where you found her.

Your fire-sneezing, bouncing baby girl wouldn’t last another day out in the harsh wilderness (aka the dumpster that you retrieved her from). In the forty-seven minutes that you’ve had her, she’s grown accustomed to belly scratches, sleeping in your bed, and gnawing on only the finest tortilla chips in the Devildom.

Her name is Tater Tot.

She sticks out like a sore white thumb among your colorful assortment of pillows. Not that she cares. She’s living it up in the lap of luxury. Tater Tot stretches—turns around with every paw in the air, proudly showing off her rotund little baby belly, and mrrps at you.

Its the cutest thing you've ever fucking seen. You just wanna SQUEEZE her. Ugh, who would've guessed that a little trash fire baby would steal your heart so quickly?

And it’s not like you broke the rules and brought home a pet on purpose. Tater Tot had chosen you. By choosing to rummage around in that specific dumpster that you just so happened to walk past on your way home from RAD, Tater Tot had effectively decided that you were to be her new caretaker.

It’s fate. Kismet. You’ve wanted a pet for so long—dog, cat, dragon, gremlin, doesn’t matter. You’ve spent hours upon hours bitching and moaning to anyone that’ll listen about how badly you’ve wanted a pet to smother with your love. Nobody has been able to escape your woe. Everyone—the brothers, the angels, Solomon, and even your good buddy Diavolo (somehow, Barbatos has managed to evade you) have all been forced to listen to your lamenting about the pet-shaped hole in your heart.

But finally—finally—your prayers have been answered.

With a fire breathing kitten.

Oh yeah. Kismet.

You’re fairly certain that Tater Tot has never lived in a house. She had been perfectly content to snuggle up in your school uniform like some kind of tiny, pouch dwelling, heat seeking creature, until you had snuck into your bedroom and closed the door behind you.

The second you set her on the floor, it was like a switch flipped. Tater Tot had shown off her unnatural strength by flinging her little puffball body around the room like a possessed tumbleweed, spastically crashing around the room and knocking over furniture and keepsakes alike.

You had finally cornered her under your bed and sat peacefully nearby, humming quietly to calm her. It didn’t take long for you to coax her out with snacks—she liked the chips, but passionately disliked the gummy worms—and within twenty minutes you had Tater Tot lounging with you on the bed, rubbing her soft little cheeks into your palm for rubs and scritches.

You need to come up with a plan to hide your beloved child ASAP. It’s only a matter of time until either Lucifer hauls you off to his room or one of the brothers decides to camp out in yours for the night, and if word gets back to Lucifer that you’re harboring a fugitive animal… Well, favoritism or not, it won’t end pretty.

Though perhaps there is one person who can help you with this little secret.

Satan. The cat-loving fourth brother.

Man oh man, he’s going to be thrilled with sweet little Tater Tot. You have to be careful though—you reckon that there is a 96% chance that he’ll try to steal her away from you. Trying to juggle custody battles and harboring your secret daughter from Lucifer all at the same time sounds like such a pain.

But… That would still be better than having to put Tater Tot back on the streets.

With the threat of big-meanie-Lucifer looming over you like a particularly gothic and pet-hating phantom, you come to a final decision. You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and accept the soul crushing truth of the situation.

Satan is your only hope.

But how are you going to sneak your daughter all the way over to his room?

You look around your own room for something, anything that can hide your beloved dumpster pet and—ohohoho.

“Darling?”

You freeze midstep.

Busted.

“What’s up, Lucifer?” You try so hard to keep your voice calm and normal. So hard.

Judging by the way Lucifer looks at you, you’ve failed. And you were so close. Satan’s bedroom is literally right there! Only a few yards away! If only you’d just had ten more seconds to yourself in the dark hallway... Alas, the warden your beloved Lucifer aka the resident pet hater stands between you and the dusty salvation that is Satan’s library of a bedroom.

You shuffle your feet a bit nervously. Readjust your grip on the cardboard box. A bit warily, Lucifer eyes it.

“What’s in the box?”

You panic. “What box?”

Fuck.

Lucifer cracks a smile, though it doesn’t meet his gaze. He gestures to the cardboard box that you are currently holding near to your chest like some sort of ugly, cubic liferaft.

“Oh!” You laugh. It’s too high pitched. Suspicious. “This box? It’s just some books for Satan, it’s nothing—”

The box sneezes.

Your mouth snaps shut and you thank all the fucking stars in heaven that this sneeze didn’t flambé you.

Lucifer’s eyes narrow accusingly. Tone icy and sharp, he says, “Books? Is that so?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

You wilt a bit under the intensity of his gaze. “They’re… cursed books? Yeah, so cursed and dangerous and only Satan knows how to nullify the evilness of these books so I’m gonna just slip past you—”

Lucifer takes a step to the left, planting himself firmly in your path and effectively thwarting your desperate grand escape. A single blade of moonlight cuts through the curtains and slices through the shadows, Lucifer now caught in the spotlight and—oh that fucker did that on purpose. Ugh, what a drama queen.

Red eyes practically glowing in the dark, he nods menacingly at the box. “Go on then. Open it.”

“I dunno, I really shouldn’t because of the curses and—”

Clearly not in the mood to entertain your scheming-slash-rambling, Lucifer takes matters into his own hands. Before you can twist away, one of his hands darts out to knock the lid off of the box and—

Books. It’s filled with books.

He frowns. Lifts one up and—nope, there’s just more books underneath. “...What?”

“Happy? Now if you don’t mind I really should get—”

“Let me help you with that.”

Your reflexes aren't fast enough. Before you can leap back or Sparta kick him away, Lucifer plucks the box right out of your arms… and reveals a squirming lump beneath your sweater, right inbetween your breasts. The box hits the floor. Lucifer stares at your newly acquired mass with a very particular sort of horror that you’ve never seen before.

You panic. Again.

“...I grew a new boob. I think the Devildom air is toxic or something, but it’s okay! The more the merrier, right? We can still—gET YOUR HANDS OFF MY TIDDIES—”

Lucifer presses one hand to your lower back, trapping you, and yanks down your zipper, revealing the purrito that is wrapped kind-of-securely to your chest with a scarf. He recoils backwards, looking equal parts horrified and peeved off.

Time for Plan B.

93% sure that you can still recover from this situation that is rapidly soaring downhill, you stuff your hands into your pockets and then throw them outwards, flinging fistfuls of rainbow confetti into the air. “Surpriiiise! You’re a daddy! Say hello to our daughter.”

“No.”

“Her name is Tater Tot. Personally, I think she takes after you.”

The Tater in question shimmies out of her silky prison and tumbles nose first into your palms. You hold her right up to Lucifer’s face, grinning like a goddamn sociopath when he takes an alarmed step backwards. Little puffball paws desperately try to swipe at his nose. Lucifer looks downright offended by the assault of pink toe beans.

“See? She’s just a baby~” you coo, gently wiggling the noodle-limp kitten in his face.

Lucifer grimaces. Takes another, larger step back. “If a baby is what you want, I’d rather give you one myself.”

“As fun as that sounds, we have a perfectly good one right here!”

“That thing is not a baby. Where did you find it?”

There’s a concerned little scrunch in his brow that you wanna smooth over with your thumb, but when you try to close the distance between you two, he moves further out of reach. Frowning, you hug Tater Tot to your chest. She snuggles her face into the crook of your neck and purrs like the smallest biodiesel engine in all of the realms.

“I found her in a dumpster!” you say, perhaps a bit too proudly.

Lucifer’s eyes widen. “In the city?”

“Why is that so shocking? Does the Devildom not have stray cats?”

“That’s not a cat.”

“Well yeah I kinda figured, what with the whole fire breathing thing and all, but—”

“It’s a chimera.”

You stare at Lucifer. Try to gauge how serious he’s being. Tater Tot nibbles on your thumb with little needle-like teeth.

Surely he’s joking.

“...Like the lion-goat-lizard thing? That chimera?”

Lucifer nods.

Like you’re in some twisted version of the Lion King, you hold Tater Tot up in the beam of moonlight that Mr. Doom and Gloom had previously been occupying. Examine her totally normal kitten-features. The distinct lack of goat hooves. Miss Tater licks her nose. A Chimera? Her?

Surely he’s fucking with you.

But… it would explain the whole fire-breathing thing. Kind of. You’re not fully convinced he’s lying, but the truth doesn’t make much more sense.

But if she is a chimera… that’s so badass.

If Lucifer thinks for one second that Tater Tot being a nightmarish Hell creature is going to scare you into giving her up, then he is sorely mistaken. (You did choose to date him, after all. You're an expert at loving on Hellish beings.) At the end of the day, whether Tater is a chimera or a cat or whatever the hell else, you’ve already bonded with each other. She’s your baby and you are not going to let him get rid of her.

If he gets Cerberus, then you get your funky little Tater Tot, dammit.

Lucifer watches this journey of emotions play out on your face. His eyes narrow. He says your name slowly, strained—a thinly veiled warning in his voice.

The grin that overtakes your face can only be described as evil.

“We’re keeping her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can’t be serious.”

From the depths of your blanket fort, your hand emerges to flip Lucifer off. He scowls.

“This blanket fort is only for Tater Tot and me.”

“Then perhaps you should relocate to your bed.” Lucifer growls.

You snuggle further into the black sheets cocooning you. With impressive speed, you had raced back to Lucifer’s room and stripped every piece of fabric from his bed in record time. From there, it was simply a matter of combining the dark sheets with a bunch of pillows and voila. You had created your very own anti-Lucifer fortress, right in the middle of his bed.

Tater Tot army-crawls across your thigh and worms her way into the sheets, vanishing like a ninja.

"What?" You peek at Lucifer through a small opening in the fabric. “But then you would just ignore me and Tater Tot.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m glad that we’re on the same page.”

“No! We’re not on the same page at all,” you scowl. “I’m not moving until you bond with her.”

“Then I suppose you’ll be stuck there forever.”

“Maybe I will!”

You can’t see him right now, but you know in the depths of your heart that Lucifer is rolling his eyes at you.

Which, y’know. Fair. You are being a little bit ridiculous. But what choice do you have? The confetti didn't work and Lucifer needs to form an everlasting bond with Tater Tot. He needs to experience how lovely and precious and wonderful your little baby is, so that he won’t make you put her back in the dumpster where you found her.

You have one last tactic. It is by far the absolute worst.

Talking to him. Like some kind of functioning, responsible adult, because apparently that's what you're supposed to do in a healthy relationship. Blegh.

While you agonize over stooping to this final resort, Lucifer climbs into the bed without a word and settles himself in like he owns the place. Which he does. But that’s beside the point.

One of your arms emerges from the blanket shield to poke at his pajama clad thigh. He doesn’t react. So naturally, you poke him again. And again. And again, until finally he sighs, “What?”

You squirm your way out of the stuffy blankets, gulping down air once you're free—sweet baby Jesus, fresh air has never felt so good—and Tater Tot flies out after you, rocketing across the mattress at the speed of light and tumbling around like a little white pom pom. While she does her own thing, you worm your way into Lucifer’s side so that you’re halfway on top of his chest. He huffs and lays there like a board, refusing to hug you, so you grab his arm and wrap it around your shoulders yourself.

Here goes nothing.

“Why are you so against having a pet?” you ask, dancing the pads of your fingers over his chest.

Lucifer cracks one eye open. “The first and last time I allowed pets in the house, Satan brought home 48 cats. In one hour.”

...You really should have seen that one coming.

“Oh. Well, I mean… Is that reallyyy a bad thing—ow! You jerk, I was just kidding.” You pout. “You didn’t have to pinch my butt that hard.”

Lucifer snickers and pats your butt consolingly. “Mmm, no, I didn’t. But I wanted to.”

Briefly, you consider headbutting him right in the chin. But alas, that wouldn’t solve anything, so you settle for pressing a kiss to his collarbone, then reach a hand up to play with his hair, just how he likes. It’s not very ~vengeful~ buuut it’s bound to put him in a better mood.

You trace cutesy little heart shapes on his right pec. “You know what I want?”

Lucifer closes his eyes—lets his head fall back onto the mattress. “We’re not keeping her.”

You snuggle into his chest with a happy little hum. “Yes we are.”

“...Just for the night. Tomorrow you're putting her back where you found her."

You wake up in agony.

It feels like you’ve had a lung ripped out and replaced with serrated knives. Or shark teeth. Each breath drags oh so painfully at your—just kidding.

You wake up well rested and tangled in the bedsheets, your head hanging off the side of the mattress. You’re a little hazy-brained and your skull feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but that’s probably because of all the blood rushing to your head. When you roll over and haul yourself back up onto the bed, a noise escapes you that is definitely not fit for polite company.

The murky depths of slumber threaten to take you again, so you pat around the bed with your hand, looking for your favorite demon-slash-body pillow. You pat. And keep patting. Where the hell is Lucifer?

You crack one bleary eye open, trying to find Lucifer and—

Where the hell is Tater Tot?

Your heart jolts in your chest as you realize a few things all at once.

One: Lucifer is missing.

Two: Tater Tot is missing.

Three: You slept through breakfast, but that’s less important.

You’re off like a shot, wrestling yourself out of the sheets and flinging them to the floor, then stumbling across the room to get to the door before your brain can even fully wake up. It’s fine, you don’t need 100% brainpower, you just need to find your baby.

You’ve barely taken four steps into the hallway when you slam nose first into Mammon. He catches you, saving your face from becoming acquainted with the floor, and you grab him by the leathery lapels of his jacket.

“Where’s Lucifer?!” you hiss.

Mammon desperately tries to squirm out of your feral grip. You shake him like a polaroid picture.

“Geez, knock it off would ya?! He’s in his office, what the hell is up with you? Wh—HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKIN’ TO YA!”

Whatever the Weenie has to say to you is less important than finding your child, so as soon as you acquire Lucifer’s location, you haul ass to Lucifer’s study.

In a raging fury that could rival Satan’s existence, you fling open the door, ready to tear Lucifer a new one for not even letting you say goodbye to your beloved kitten and—

And your heart melts into a warm, gooey puddle.

Lucifer is sitting at his desk. Tater Tot is draped across his shoulders.

Lucifer glares at you, but there's no real bite in his gaze. “Keep it down, Phobos is sleeping.”

You blink stupidly, your brain racing at a thousand miles an hour to catch up with whatever the hell you’re currently feeling that has you all mushy and moon-eyed. “Phobos? What the hell? That’s not her name at all.”

“My love, we are not naming our daughter after potatoes. Her name is now Phobos. She and I came to a mutual agreement that it is far more fitting of a name for a creature of her pedigree.”

...You’re so torn. On one hand, you want to argue that Tater Tot is a lovely name for your dumpster kitten-chimera-thing, but on the other hand… he called her ‘our daughter’. As in your guys’s daughter. This can only mean one thing, and you clutch at your heart when you realize what’s happening.

They bonded.

It damn well might bring a tear to your eyes.

You make your way over to Lucifer, shove aside the papers on his desk, and perch your happy ass right on the hardwood.

With a bone deep sigh, Lucifer leans back in his chair. “Why do you always do that? My lap is available, you know.”

Tater Tot wakes up and lifts her heavy little sleep-addled head to meep at you.

You grin—hook your ankles around the armrests of his chair and pull him closer. “So… does this mean we’re keeping Tater Tot?”

“... Yes, we’re keeping Phobos. But that’s it, no more pets.”

“Okay, wait. Hear me out. What about a dog?”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucifer plucks another white hair from his RAD uniform and holds it up to the moonlight, scowling at the offensive thing. Why in all the realms did you have to find a white cat? The damned thing has only lived with you lot for two days and yet somehow its hair has already gotten over every article of black clothing in his wardrobe. It’s infuriating.

His gaze wanders across the courtyard to where you’re sitting pretty on Beel’s shoulders, clawing at his face with your fingertips and screaming in terror at how high up you are. He grins.

He can put up with the shedding fur, so long as he gets to see how your eyes shine like the stars when you see Phobos.

Still though. Why couldn’t you find a black kitten?

“Lucifer! There you are!”

Lucifer flicks the cat hair—lets the breeze catch it and float it away. Before he can even get a proper greeting in, Diavolo is pulling him in for a bone crushing hug.

“You’re here a bit later than usual. How’s life with the new kitten treating you?” Diavolo asks.

Lucifer steps out of the hug and eyes Diavolo warily. “Just fine, thank yo—wait. How do you know about the cat?”

Diavolo blinks innocently. “Surely you told me about her, didn’t you?”

No, he definitely did not—oh no.

Lucifer stares, slack jawed and horrified, because in that moment, he realizes something that he refuses to accept.

No.

No. It can’t be.

Diavolo would never do that to him. He would ne—oh fuck, he absolutely did.

Diavolo planted the cat. He knew that you would find her in that dumpster and take her home.

Lucifer has never known a betrayal quite like this. Diavolo says something about heading off to his office, but he doesn’t hear him over the rushing in his ears.

“Diavolo.”

The demon prince in question pauses in his escape to look back at Lucifer. “Yes, Lucifer?”

“Why did you have to pick a white cat?”

And oh, Diavolo laughs. A full belly laugh that quite honestly kills Lucifer. Just a little bit.

#gnocchiwrites #obey me shall we date #obey me #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me! shall we date?#tater tot's adventures

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sokkascroptop · 3 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 23

prequel | part 1 | part 22 | part 24

A/N: yay!! here she is!! Lots of awkward, cringey moments, but they’re 15!! of course they’re cringey!! what will the gaang do with Y/N??? if you haven’t read my prequel of ‘Traitor’ with Zuko, I highly suggest you check it out. There are references of that story in this part!

On the flight to the Western air temple, Y/N couldn’t help stare out the window for most of it. It was more than refreshing to be able to see mountains and trees again. She never realized how much she missed them until she thought she’d never see them again.

“Are you excited to see your friends again?” Suki asked as she snuck up behind Y/N. She wondered if Suki was always so light on her feet.

“Extremely,” Y/N admitted. “As much as I enjoyed our time in prison together…” Y/N laughed at the joke and Suki joined in.

She grabbed Y/N’s hand and joined her at the window, together they watched the trees below them blur into a dark hazy patch as the sun began to set. “I know we made a lot of jokes about how well we did in prison, but I really thought we wouldn’t get out of there. I mean,” Suki sighed. “There’s always a chance we don’t win this war. No one wants to say it but, I know you understand it.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. It was true. Keeping hope alive was good for them all, but once in a while you needed to look at the reality of a situation. Y/N’s friends didn’t always like doing that. (They were all so optimistic. It was refreshing, and tiring all at the same time)

Suki shrugged. “Anyways, enough of that talk. I’m excited to see Team Avatar too. And, I can’t wait to have more room than just my cell to train!”

“Yes!” Y/N said. She squeezed Suki’s hand in excitement. “And I’ll have my sword back! I swear, I’ll probably be training all day; Sokka’s going to get tired of me asking him to spar with me.”

“We should spar, Y/N! I can teach you all of the Kyoshi warriors moves and you can teach me some of those Fire Nation hand-to-hand combat moves I saw you using on that acrobat!” Suki exclaimed.

“That sounds amazing, we–” Y/N was interrupted by Sokka meeting them in the hallway.

“Guys, we’re gonna be landing soon–” He paused, eyes flickering down to their hands and then back up to meet their faces. “If you wanted to come to the doors.”

Y/N smiled. “Of course. We’ll be right there.”

Sokka opened his mouth to say something else but immediately closed it, turning away with a blush high on his cheeks. Only then did Y/N realize that she and Suki had never untangled their hands.

Sokka had mentioned to Y/N when they boarded that he and Zuko hadn’t exactly been honest with the rest of the group when they left. They had made up a lie about going fishing which, honestly, Y/N didn’t think Katara or Toph would have believed anyways. So when they pulled up to the courtyard, Sokka and Zuko went down the ramp first to calm the three of them down. Rightfully so, Toph, Katara, and Aang were probably worried to see such a large Fire Nation airship pulling up to their newly found safe haven.

From the shadows behind the door where she, Suki and Hakoda waited. Y/N could hear Toph’s cheerful voice carry to the airship over the stones of the courtyard. “Well, did you catch any fish?”

“I think you’ll appreciate what we caught more than some fish!” Sokka’s voice was showy and projected. Her and Suki shared a giggle before they walked out the doors side by side.

By the looks on everyone’s faces when they came bounding down the ramp, seeing Y/N was the last thing they could have imagined. She took a moment, where she paused at the bottom of the ramp just taking them all in. Not like they had changed much in the time she was gone. Katara was still Katara, standing with her hands on her hips and her piercing blue eyes widened in surprise. Aang was still Aang, though Y/N could admit he might have been a hair taller. And Toph was still Toph, but the smile on her face grew when she heard Y/N’s voice.

“I missed you guys so much!” Y/N felt like her face was going to break in half, she was smiling so widely. She pulled Aang and Toph into a hug all at once, just as she felt Katara brush past her arm to engulf Hakoda into a bear hug.

Aang, ever the affectionate one of the group, squeezed Y/N so hard that she felt like she would pop. Even Toph who was never big on hugs, let the both of them wrap their arms around her as they laughed together.

“How did you get here?!” Toph finally pulled herself out of the hug, but stayed close enough that her arm touched Y/N’s.

“A Fire Nation airship; surely you heard the other’s say.” Y/N smirked.

Toph pinched the back of Y/N’s arm. “You know what I mean.”

Y/N turned around as she heard Katara speak up. “How did you do this?” she asked Sokka, as she rested her hands on her fathers arms, unable to pull herself away like she was afraid he could disappear if she stopped touching him.

Sokka scratched the back of his neck and gave Zuko a sideways glance. “We might have gone to a Fire Nation prison on a hunch.”

Katara reached out towards Sokka and he flinched as if he expected a thump on his forehead for being so foolish. Instead, Katara pulled him in for a hug with their father. Y/N watched on with a heavy heart. It was the best outcome she could have hoped for when she was taken from Hakoda’s side at the Fire Nation naval base. But it was painful to watch a father love so openly, knowing she would never have that. As if Zuko was thinking the same thing, the two of them turned away simultaneously to look at each other. His gold eyes burned into her own and Y/N looked away again.

She knew that they needed to get along. It was the best course of action if they were going to have to work together, but she wasn’t sure if it was the best thing for her heart.

She had put so much trust into Zuko only to have it dashed away with the very action of turning against her and rejoining his sister and the nation that banished him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he would be willing to do it again if given the chance. Would he betray her again for the sake of his honor? At the same time a little voice in her head told her she had done the same thing. That there was always the chance for her to recant and go crawling back home, looking for remorse. Even Azula thought she could do it.

She quickly shook that image out of her head. She wouldn’t go back, not until it was a place she could be proud of again. And well Azula, she was best not to be thought about at all. No one knew of Y/N’s hasty, last minute plan to bring Azula back with her and fix her, and no one needed to know either. She didn’t need the tuts of disapproval echoing from all sides.

“It seems like we’re going to have a lot to talk about tonight,” Aang commented as he looked over their prison uniforms, his eyes lingered on Zuko’s bruised eye for just a second too long, and Y/N could already hear Aang’s voice of reason telling her that she shouldn’t have done that. He would be right of course, but Y/N wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

“So much,” Y/N agreed.

“I guess I’ll make tea,” Zuko said.

---

Turns out that even with as many stories and explanations as they had to tell, the five of them conked out within minutes of sitting down. Sokka was first, which was unsurprising, he’d done so much running around at Boiling Rock between her, Suki and Zuko that she didn’t know if he’d eaten the entire time he was there, let alone sat down and rested. And that was even before Hakoda had shown up.

Y/N snorted at the way his face was smooshed up against the ground and leaned her head up against one of the walls near the fire. She tried to focus on whatever was coming out of Zuko’s mouth. Her eyes grew heavy until the next thing she knew Suki’s head had fallen onto her shoulder, and Y/N wasn’t far behind. Y/N couldn’t say what happened after that, but there was no chance that Hakoda nor Zuko stayed up to talk long after they realized that half of their boarding party had already called lights out.

Despite the unforgiving–and frankly cold–flagstone floor, it was the best sleep Y/N had gotten in weeks.

---

“Okay. And what do I do after that?” Y/N asked, her hands raised in a defensive stance.

Suki walked around Y/N with her arms crossed against her chest, examining Y/N like she was one of her warriors. As she walked behind her, Suki tapped the inside arches of Y/N’s shoes with her toes. “You need your feet a bit wider. The last thing you need is to tip over while you’re trying to use your opponent’s weight against them.” She came around and stood in front of Y/N. She narrowed her eyes and looked Y/N over. A shiver rolled over Y/N’s shoulders as Suki’s eyes traveled down her body.

Suki could be really intimidating when she wanted to be, with her deep brown eyes and pouty lips, she could send someone a look that could kill. Y/N had felt the brunt end of that side of her more than once. But when she was on your side, she was a really good friend. Y/N had figured that out that day she’d met Suki in the yard of Boiling Rock, and she was reminded of it everytime Suki sent a smile in her direction, like she was now.

“Explain that more, using their weight against them?” Y/N asked.

Suki nodded and wrapped her long fingers around Y/N’s wrists and pulled them down slightly. “As you probably know, the Kyoshi warriors are mostly made up of young girls. We had to learn how to take down people who are bigger and possibly stronger than us. You probably already do it to an extent, having trained with larger men most of your life.”

Suki gave a quick shake to each of Y/N’s wrists, feigning like she was going to let Y/N punch herself in the face. “Buuuut, I also know that most Fire Nation moves are a bit more sharp. You’re always on the offensive. And you–in particular–can be a bit punchy.”

Y/N laughed and twisted her wrists outwards and slipped easily from Suki’s grip. “I am not.”

Suki leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, for Zuko and Aang were just on the other side of the courtyard doing their sunrise katas. “Tell that to Zuko’s face.”

Y/N bit her lip to keep herself from laughing again. “It was one time.”

“I’m sure there were others,” Suki hummed.

“So then what do you want me to do?” Y/N asked.

“Learn to be more defensive.” Suki poked Y/N on the forearm, directly across one of the many bruises that popped up overnight. “You’re covered in bruises from the fight with Ty Lee because you were–and forgive my stupid analogy–fighting fire with fire.”

Y/N rubbed her arm. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You were hitting her with the same force she was hitting you. Her arms and legs probably look just like yours. You know, if you’re any good.” Suki smirked.

Y/N let her head fall back and whined. “Why did I let you teach me first? Can we switch? I wanna be in charge.”

“Too late!” Suki said cheerfully. Suddenly, her demeanor changed and Suki was looking up at Y/N through her lashes. A devious smile spread across her lips. “Don’t you want to be more like me?”

All of the air left Y/N’s lungs. Y/N stared at Suki without even making a motion to hide her blush. “Yes,” she breathed.

---

Y/N landed hard on her back again with a thud and a groan. She couldn’t help the rage that boiled in her gut as she continued to get beat up by Suki. Y/N hated losing but she hated quitting even more. Even though this was purely a training session, more teaching than anything, Y/N refused to stop until she learned at least one thing, and if that meant losing over and over to Suki, Y/N could take it.

Out of pure frustration, more at herself than anything else, Y/N made a fist and hit the ground with the side of her hand, letting out a guttural growl.

Y/N sat up and narrowed her eyes at Suki, who was standing over her with her head cocked to the side. “I’m going to get this if it literally kills me!”

“Okay.” Suki held out her hand to help Y/N to her feet. She was a little surprised that Suki wasn’t telling Y/N they were going to stop and try again later. Anyone else would have told her to take a break or to take a walk, but Suki was showing that she trusted Y/N enough to know her own limits.

Y/N got back in her wide-legged stance. “Agni, I can’t wait to kick your ass tomorrow,” she said angrily.

Suki, who was in the same stance as Y/N, doubled over laughing. Y/N straightened up and blinked wildly, walking back over her words carefully to figure out what was so funny. Seeing Suki laugh made a smile work it’s way across Y/N’s face. She tried to fight it off but failed miserably.

“Stop laughing,” Y/N giggled.

“Yeah, stop laughing! We’re trying to concentrate over here!” Zuko shouted. He and Aang were both frozen, staring at the girls like they’d each grown two extra heads.

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch, Zuko,” Suki waved her hands in his direction. And Y/N slapped her hands over her mouth and snorted, which sent both girls into another fit of giggles.

---

That was evidently the end of their training session for the day; their laughs having given them a better workout than the actual fighting. Both girls laid opposite directions with their heads next to each other, splayed out on their backs staring at the roof of the courtyard. Y/N muscles hurt in ways that they hadn’t in a long time. She missed training, she missed learning. She had spent the past few years practicing with guards, and the last few months teaching Sokka, but she had forgotten how invigorating and exciting learning something new could be, even if it was immeasurably frustrating the first few tries.

Suki turned her head to the side and looked at Y/N’s profile. Y/N took a few beats before she turned her head. It was hard to meet Suki’s eyes anymore and Y/N couldn’t put her finger on why; but this time Y/N steeled herself and did. It was sort of like free falling or making a dive on Appa’s back; for a second it was scary, and made her heart leap into her throat, but soon enough it settled and she got used to the weightlessness. Y/N didn’t think she was supposed to enjoy either part, but she did.

Or maybe Y/N did know why it was hard to look at Suki and just didn’t want to dwell too long on that imagery. That was… complicated. Y/N liked being friends with Suki, that was good enough. It had to be good enough. Even though Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about their dynamic. Where Sokka made her feel appreciated and whole, Suki made her feel alive.

“I was laughing because I don’t think you know what you look like when you’re mad,” Suki murmured.

“Huh?”

Suki rolled her eyes playfully. “You think you look so badass, but you really just look like an angry Momo.”

Y/N shuddered. “Angry Momo is scary.”

“No, he’s always cute.”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back up at the tiles on the roof. Y/N’s whole body flushed. Suki had just called her cute. Y/N stole a glance that felt scandalous and noticed a pinkness to Suki’s cheeks too. Y/N looked away and gave a hard blink, trying to wipe it from her mind.

“Hey, there you are.” Sokka approached the both of them. Y/N stood up hastily and brushed the dirt from her clothes. His hair was still down, framing his face and he was rubbing his bleary eyes like he had just woken up.

“Hey!” Y/N’s voice was high-pitched. Her heart raced like she had been caught in the act of doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. “What’s up?”

She could feel Suki’s eyes on her back, and Y/N so desperately wanted to retreat to the inside of the temple. Being around the both of them at the same time was too much. She wished she had a shell like a turtle duck that she could crawl into and hide in.

“I woke up and you were gone. It freaked me out a little,” Sokka admitted. “I just wanted to find you. And you know, make sure everything is okay.”

“Oh.” Y/N’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I’m used to earlier mornings now.” Suddenly, her heart was filled with sympathy for Sokka. She didn’t realize how jarring it might have been to wake up alone, with the people you had rescued nowhere to be found.

“Right.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder. “Suki and I talked about sparring and we wanted to come out here before breakfast.”

“Breakfast”–Sokka leaned back and stretched–“now that’s got my name all over it. Come on, let’s go see how much noise we can make until Katara wakes up and just does it for us.” He threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pressed a tender kiss to her temple. It was something he’d done dozens of times, something that she’d never paid attention to before. But now she was highly aware that someone was watching.

Y/N turned around abruptly. “Suki, are you coming?”

Suki smiled gratefully from her seat on the ground where she had watched the interaction between Sokka and Y/N. “Sure.”

---

Y/N spent the rest of the day doing everything she could to avoid Zuko and it seemed like he was trying to do the same thing. Neither one of them wanted to apologize to one another, or talk about what had happened between them at Boiling Rock. Which meant they couldn’t look at each other either. Making every exchange between the two of them extremely awkward for the rest of the group around them.

It was so bad that that morning at breakfast Y/N had shooed Zuko away when he offered a tray full of cups of tea towards her, nearly spilling them in Katara’s lap. And later that day, when Zuko dropped the strap that hooked his dao sheath around his back and Y/N picked it up automatically, he snatched it out of her hands so quickly that the leather chafed her palm.

“I thought you and Zuko were friends in the Fire Nation,” Katara muttered over her shoulder to Y/N who was braiding Katara’s hair.

Y/N bit her lip and glanced out to the courtyard where Sokka and Zuko were sparring (which had apparently become a thing while she was away and no, she was not jealous) She knew where this was going. “We were,” Y/N said simply.

“So I thought you would be happier to see him.”

Y/N heard Suki snicker behind her as she weaved her own fingers through Y/N’s hair in their braid train. Y/N frowned. “He betrayed us in Ba Sing Se.”

“Didn’t you leave the Fire Nation with Azula to specifically capture him and his uncle?” Toph said as she sat on the fountain’s edge near them and swung her legs back and forth.

“Toph, if you are not braiding, you do not get to participate in braid train talk,” Y/N nagged.

“I’m blind.”

“Poor excuse. You still have hands.” Y/N leaned sideways to flick the younger girl in the shin, but was pulled away by Suki.

“Anyways, I’m not saying I like him either.” Katara shrugged. “But I didn’t think I’d see it from you.”

Y/N paused her hands. “There are a lot of issues between the two of us.”

“Clearly.”

“Toph.” Y/N grumbled then she sighed. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Katara turned her head to watch her brother and Zuko spar for a minute before replying. “You’ll figure it out.”

Y/N followed her gaze to the two boys. Yes, Katara. Let me just add that to the list of things I need to figure out.

---

“I know you better than you think.” Suki grabbed a few dry twigs next to her foot and added them to the pile in her arms.

Y/N almost dropped the kindling in her own hands. She quickly recovered and shifted its weight to her other arm. “What are you talking about?” She asked coolly.

The two of them offered to collect firewood for dinner that night, Toph had piped up and said that she and Zuko could help too, but as they reached the woods they split off from each other; which meant that somewhere off in the trees were two people that Y/N really didn’t need hearing whatever was going to come out of Suki’s mouth next.

“I know I haven’t known you as long as the others, but I think that I know you pretty well, and something has been bothering you.”

Y/N only hummed in acknowledgment. It was true, Y/N had been juggling with a few different things. Her strained relationship with Zuko was at the top of the list, because that affected the others the most, but the weird fluttering of her heart when she was around Suki was catching up fast. Y/N tried to swallow but her throat was too dry.

It felt a little chilling for someone to read her so clearly, but surprisingly, Y/N found solace in it as well. She hadn’t had that since–well–Azula. Y/N didn’t feel like lying to Suki or herself anymore. “That obvious, huh?”

The corner of Suki’s mouth lifted in a soft smile. “The others will find out eventually, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That’s what Y/N was afraid of. Was she really showing her emotions so candidly? How embarrassing was it going to be when the rest of them found out that she was dating Sokka while crushing hard on Suki at the same time. Agni, this was humiliating. Y/N was a terrible person.

“When did you find out?” Y/N stared at her toes.

“It was when Zuko and Sokka were talking about the fight on the gondola this morning. Whenever they mentioned Azula, you clenched your hands into fists.” Suki chewed on the inside of her lip. “You only do that when you’re trying to distract yourself from something that’s bothering you.

“We both know that I have no love for that girl,” Suki continued, when Y/N stayed silent. Mostly from shock, the conversation was not going in the direction she had seen coming. “But I know you knew her differently than the rest of us.”

“Oh,” Y/N murmured. She broke eye contact with Suki and tried to recover herself. “Yes, I guess so.”

Somehow this conversation was better and worse at the same time. For another day she was going to be able to hide whatever it was she was feeling, but now she was going to have to talk about something that was so much harder.

“So what’s bothering you?”

Y/N clutched the dry kindling to her chest tightly, letting the bark and branches dig into her stomach through her thin shirt. “I might be hiding something,” Y/N said without thinking.

Suki paused and then nodded slowly, like she was talking to a startled animal. Which Y/N figured was accurate, considering she was about 5 seconds from dropping the kindling and running. “What happened?”

“Azula came to see me at Boiling Rock. Right before we left.”

Suki frowned. “Why would she do that?”

She was kind of just doing exactly what I did. Maybe she knew her friendship with the other girls was slipping. “Well…”

Suki widened her eyes. “That’s not a good way to start, Y/N.”

“I talked to Azula on the Day of the Black Sun,” Y/N said. And once Y/N started, she couldn’t stop. “I was foolish and naive and I thought that I could change her if I offered. So, I–I asked her if she would come with me.”

“What??” Suki cringed at her own shout and quickly quieted her voice. “Y/N, what were you thinking?” Y/N didn’t miss the way Suki’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Y/N blinked away impending tears, thankful for the darkness that had spread through the woods. She didn’t think that it would ever come to this. “I think she’s confused and messed up. I miss her,” Y/N sniffled. “The old her. Not the person she is now.”

“Y/N…”

“I gave her the wrong idea. By telling her that I believed she could do better, now she thinks that I can come back to her too.” Y/N sucked in a gasping breath. “I feel bad because I haven’t told anyone. And now everyone’s going to be mad at me because I’ve been hiding it for so long.”

Y/N suddenly turned on her heel and began marching back to the temple. They had enough kindling and she felt like she was suffocating in the humid air.

Suki rushed to catch up with her. “I’m not mad.”

“You should be,” Y/N quipped.

“I’m processing,” Suki insisted, matching her strides with Y/N’s.

Y/N glanced at Suki and was surprised to find her looking at Y/N with worry. Despite Y/N’s admission, Suki still looked at her without malice. She could have done anything, Suki could have yelled, she could have ran off to tell the others, but she didn’t. She gave Y/N the one thing she wasn’t expecting: an opportunity. An opportunity to talk about it, a space to bear her soul and explain herself. It should have made Y/N feel better, that's what friends were for. Instead, it just made her feel worse, and made feel like what she did was that much worse. Regret rolled through her body like a tsunami and she immediately dug her heels into the dirt and dropped the kindling on their feet.

“I shouldn’t have told you.” Y/N ran her hands through her hair. “I should have just made something else up.”

“Like I said, I'm processing it.” Suki tugged on Y/N’s hands where they were tangled in her hair. “Stop worrying about what I think. What are you thinking?”

Y/N felt like she was exposed to the bone. “I’m so mad at myself for doing it in the first place but I’m mad at myself for being mad at myself! How does that even work?”

“I don’t know.” Suki shook her head.

“Everyone’s going to hate me.”

Suki laid a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “They might not understand, but they aren’t going to hate you.”

Y/N could only hope so.

---

“Why would you do something so selfish?!” Zuko busted out of the treeline, just before Y/N and Suki had made it back to the courtyard of the temple, Toph trailing behind him. Sparks ignited behind his teeth as he surged forward right to Y/N.

His shout startled her so much she dropped the wood she was carrying. It took a moment for Y/N to realize that he was talking to her. They had been avoiding each other at every turn. “What are you talking about?”

The shouts had brought Aang, Katara and Sokka running out of the temple and to the edge of the woods where Y/N and Zuko were having their face off.

“Tell them. Tell them what you told Suki.” He glowered.

“Tell us what?” Aang asked. He stood to the side of them like he was planning on jumping in at the first sign of trouble.

Y/N shared a look with Suki and then looked back to Zuko, shaking her head minutely. She was not planning on being bullied into confessing secrets that were better left untold.

“She tried to get Azula to come back with her on the Day of the Black Sun,” Zuko tattled like a petulant child, sending a glare in her direction. Before waiting for anyone else’s reaction. He continued his barrage. “How could you be so stupid?”

“Wait, did you really?” Katara asked.

Y/N barely even heard Katara speak, she was deaf to all noise except for the blood rushing in her ears and Zuko’s voice. “Stupid?!”

Y/N was filled with rage. She could accept Katara yelling at her, she could accept a sad, disappointed look from Aang that would make her heart ache. Y/N could get over Sokka and Toph ignoring her for a few days, she wouldn’t expect anything less from them, and it would be well deserved for her moral slip-up. Azula hurt them.

But Zuko’s outburst? Y/N was not going to accept that from him. Not from the boy who was just as bad at her at being good.

“Fine! I did it! And I’m not stupid just because I still care about her. Look at you and I; We changed! Why can’t she have that chance too?! What about Mai and Ty Lee?! You watched Mai save us and I told you I saw Ty Lee save her from Azula. That was for us!” Y/N leaned forward and poked Zuko square in the chest.

Zuko batted her hand away, his own hands scalding hot, just seconds away from flaming. “Azula is loyal to Ozai! She would never leave.”

Y/N scoffed. “We all were.”

“What?”

“We both took orders from him. We were all props used by our fathers in this war started by our great grandparents. That is all the more reason that she should deserve a second chance! We know how it is to be under his influence! You weren’t there that day, she was going to do it! She would have taken my hand!”

“What did she say when you met her at Boiling Rock? I know you talked to her,” Zuko growled.

Y/N blinked, taken aback. How would he know that she had spoken to Azula that day? Though she guessed that conclusion wasn’t that hard to get at.

“She told me she was going to take me back to the Fire Nation; probably back to my dad,” Y/N choked back a sob. “She was going to let me hit my lowest point so I would come crawling back to her, ready to be their puppet again. And yet here I am. I didn’t go with her even though it would be easier to give in and do whatever they wanted. Just because I believe that everyone is worth change, doesn’t mean I think what she’s doing is right.”

Y/N brushed past him easily, avoiding everyone’s eyes. All she wanted to do was curl up in her sleeping bag and pass out, maybe to dream up a solution to her and Zuko’s anger at one another.

“You’re delusional.”

Y/N paused. She could ignore him and keep walking. She could be the bigger person and not continue the argument, silencing him where he stood. But Y/N had never been one to leave things left unsaid once it started. She needed the last word.

She turned around and lifted her chin. She smiled even though she wanted to scream and she bathed in the sticky, deafening silence around her. She wanted everyone to hear what she had to say.

Without another thought, she felt something fierce and terrible leap out of her throat. “You of all people don’t get to say that to me. Not from the boy who went running back to the Fire Nation to try and get his daddy to love him again.” Y/N spit the words at him and he took it like a slap to the face.

Y/N could hear someone yelling at her for what she had said. It might have even been more than one voice, they had all become so attached to Zuko so quickly. But she wasn’t listening to the words anyone was saying; her head was pounding too loudly and she was too focused on the sudden heartbroken look that crossed Zuko’s face. Somewhere inside she felt good; she liked that she wasn’t the only one hurting at that moment in time. She knew exactly what she was doing and not only did she twist the knife while she was there, she plunged it in deeper too.

She watched Zuko turn on his heel and walk deeper into the forest, likely to go where he could take out his anger on a tree out of earshot of the rest of her friends.

Her friend’s faces were masks of horror–wide eyes, jaws agape–and Y/N didn’t even have the decency to care. No, not while she was riding the high of taking Zuko down.

“Spirits, Y/N…” Aang looked at her like she was a completely different person. Okay, so maybe that one hurt a little. Or a lot.

Okay, so maybe Y/N wasn’t as cold-hearted as she wanted to pretend she was. Their shock at her words made her embarrassed. Y/N could feel her face redden. If the whole Azula thing didn’t get her trouble, this surely would. Where would they draw the line in the sand? When would they stop tolerating her and realize that she was really no different whichever side she was on?

“I think I’ve had enough socializing for today.” Y/N didn’t wait for a response, she just turned around again and headed back to the temple. She would grab her sleeping bag and head deep into one of the private rooms in the temple where no one could hear her cry.

Y/N knew it was wrong of her. She knew it. She knew that it would disappoint her friends to hear her be so hateful and she knew it would hurt Zuko but it was like she couldn’t help herself. And she hated the way she loved how it felt. (There was a lot of that going on with her at the moment; hating something she loves so much.)

---

It was no surprise that Y/N had trouble sleeping that night.

She went over and over the fight, replaying every moment. The euphoria of hurting someone was gone and replaced with shame. She was ashamed of her words and actions and it made it worse when she thought about how the other’s took it.

It was cold without a fire, but Y/N was stubborn. There was no way she was going back out to sleep with the rest of them. She’d rather freeze. She gave a violent shiver in her sleeping bag, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was freezing or because she just thought how Sokka was looking at her as she taunted Zuko.

What would he think of her? Sokka was close to Zuko; he liked him. Sokka was going to hate her for her cruel words. They all would. The last thing she needed to do was divide them all again, just when things were beginning to work out.

Once, Sokka had told her that they couldn’t hate Y/N for things she hadn’t done, but what about things that she had done?

---

She’d chosen a room higher up in the temple, figuring that if someone did come looking for her, they’d stop looking on the ground floor. Y/N slipped out of her sleeping bag and walked to the window. A cloudless, midnight sky stared back at her. It was a strange feeling, to be inside of a building as vast as the Western Air Temple, but have no noise around her. No lanterns outside or in the hallways to light the way for anyone awake late at night. It felt ghostly; otherworldly. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed a familiar boy with dark, scruffy hair sitting alone in the courtyard, despite the time of night and the cool temperature. Then again, the cold didn’t ever get to firebenders.

Y/N didn’t know what carried her feet down the stairs and towards Zuko. He was sitting on the edge of the courtyard, with his legs dangling over the edge.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked quietly, a gust of wind nearly taking her words right over the cliff.

Zuko whipped around and Y/N took a step back, knowing that his flames would be on the tips of his fingers.

“Y/N,” Zuko frowned. “You’re always so quiet.” There was none of the expected malice in his voice.

Y/N wasn’t sure if that was an invitation, but she sat down next to him anyways, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them. “I can’t sleep either,” Y/N said after a few beats of silence.

“I can’t imagine why. You said what you’ve been wanting to say for days now, you should be sleeping like a baby.” And there was the malice. It cut like a knife through Y/N.

She bit her lip to keep her from saying, you’re right I should, because it would have been a lie. Instead, she said “What I said was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Zuko was silent. And Y/N couldn’t have that. “You probably remember I don’t know how to shut my mouth when it’s good for me–”

“Apparently you still haven’t learned–”

“Okay.” Y/N pressed her hands together to stop herself from reaching over and throttling Zuko. “But the faster you let me say this the faster I will leave you alone.”

Zuko stared down at the abyss below them, but then nodded slowly.

“I want to apologize because I don’t like fighting with you, I never have.” Y/N took a breath. “I think that I’ve been mad at you for so long it just kind of exploded out of me. It’s just really complicated.”

“How can it be so complicated? I figured we’d both done enough bad to one another that we’d be even.”

Y/N chewed on her lip. “That’s not a great way of putting it but I understand what you mean. But that doesn’t mean we should leave everything unsaid.”

“Then what do you want to say?”

Here came the really silly part. The thing that Y/N never allowed her to think about because of how absurd it sounded. A memory of the days leading up to Zuko leaving to fulfill his banishment flashed before her eyes. Them holding each other, crying, promising things children shouldn’t need to promise one another.

“I told you to come home safe and you never did. You left me alone, with just her.”

Zuko scowled. “That’s why you’re mad at me? I didn’t have much of a choice in that matter, I was banished.”

“I know that.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I know it’s stupid, but 12 year old girls don’t have the most rational thoughts when it comes to stuff like that. In my mind, you were always headed home, Avatar in tow. But month after month you were still gone, and I started to become mad at the wrong person; not the person who sent you away, who burned you, but at you for leaving me, forgetting about me.”

Zuko’s molten gold eyes glowed in the dark. “I never forgot you.”

Y/N had to look away from him. Guilt racked at her. He might have not forgotten about her, but it felt like she’d forgotten everything about him. “But we grew into completely new people. How–how can I miss you? When you’re sitting right next to me? I’m looking for a Zuko that I don’t think exists anymore. The first time I saw you after those 3 years apart, I didn’t even recognize you.”

Zuko ducked his head, letting his hair cover his scar. “Oh.”

“Not because–” Y/N wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that that was not what she was referring to. “You were so angry when Azula and I showed up. But it didn’t seem like you were mad about anything in particular. It’s like bitterness had seeped into your skin and became you. Like it was the only thing that was keeping you standing up straight. I don’t remember a time you ever looked at me like that–except for now maybe.”

“Well you’re different too,” Zuko countered childishly. “You’re impulsive and rude–the Y/N I grew up with was kind and patient even though she was...aggravating,” He mumbled through the last part like he didn’t really want her to hear it, but wanted to say it anyways.

Y/N felt similar to a bug under a magnifying glass. It didn’t feel like she had changed all that much, but Zuko had known her better than anyone. If anyone could see it, he would. “I think we can both agree that we can’t revert back to who we were before. We’re both much too stubborn for that.”

Zuko scoffed but it wasn’t mean, there was a small smile on his lips. “I’m stubborn?”

Was he? He was teasing her. Okay, Y/N could work with that. She nudged his shoulder playfully. “You always have been.”

Y/N let a moment pass before she spoke again. “We just have to start over. Learn how to be friends again.”

“Then I forgive you.”

“That’s a really good start.”

They both let a silence fill the air between them. It was calming and it made it feel like the night would never end.

“I wish I had the same faith in my sister as you do,” Zuko said suddenly.

Y/N found that to be a hard statement to reply to. Because on one hand, she wanted to risk it all for Azula. She would burn down the world if it meant saving her. But the real question was, did Azula want to be saved?

Ozai had her so tightly bound to him, Y/N was afraid breaking the ties would break Azula. “It’s not that I have faith in her, I just have enough faith in myself to bring her back from the brink of destruction. Ozai is going to use her until she is burnt out and I can’t help but think I can fix it.”

“You always thought you could fix everyone around you. That hasn’t changed.”

“I can fix her.”

“You don’t think she’s too far gone?”

“Not yet.”

Y/N laid back on the ground behind her. From here she could see the stars again. She kicked her heels against the side of the cliff, nervous to ask her next question. “If you’re not tired. Will you talk to me?”

“What do you want to know?”

Y/N closed her eyes, the constellations were burned in her memories. “Everything.”

And they did talk about everything. From how Y/N met Suki and how she got thrown into the crystal caves; to how Y/N got on the good side of Team Avatar and trained Sokka to sword-fight.

(“I saw you two sparring today.”

“He’s not bad.”

“Yeah, because I taught him.”)

Zuko talked about his life in Ba Sing Se with Iroh and about the little tea shop they ran together. He told her about Jin and Jet and explained how he felt after betraying her and Iroh in Ba Sing Se.

Zuko was on his back next to her with his head propped on his arms. “Even on the boat back to the Fire Nation, I knew I had chosen wrong. But by then it was too late, Azula had her claws in me and you and Uncle… well, I knew you would hate me for what I did. I just… I wanted to go home.”

Y/N rolled over on her stomach and looked him in the eyes. “Neither one of us could ever hate you for that. We both know why you did it. It’s not your fault.” Y/N was completely sure if she was given the same opportunity at the time by her dad she would choose the same as Zuko. Pride, honor, it was so precious in their culture, but Y/N didn’t want to be honorable if it meant hurting other people.

---

Y/N woke up to the sun streaming in the window, warming her face. She didn’t know when she and Zuko had parted ways last night, but by the position of the sun it was early afternoon that she was just now waking up.

She stumbled bleary-eyed and hungry down the stairs feeling lighter than she had in days. Zuko was the only one around, sitting in a patch of sunlight by the fountain sharpening his dao’s and looking very tired and scowly. Somewhere down below the temple, Y/N could hear the pounding of large rocks and boulders being thrown about which probably meant Toph and Aang were practicing earthbending.

Y/N snagged an orange from one of their baskets of food and laid on her stomach on his right side, propping herself up on her elbows. She began peeling the orange, dropping little pieces of the rind on the ground next to Zuko’s knee.

“Where is everyone?” Y/N asked, popping the first section of the orange in her mouth and handing Zuko the next.

He talked around the orange. “You’d know if you woke up before lunch.”

“You guys already ate lunch without me?” Y/N asked, shocked.

“Nobody wanted to mess with you.” Zuko dragged his–no wait, that was her whetstone–down one of his blades. Y/N wrinkled her nose and bit into another orange slice. Good to know he was comfortable enough with her to go digging through her bag to get that out.

“But you told them we talked right?”

“Nope.” The corner of his mouth was lifted in a smirk.

“Ugh, Zuko.” Y/N let her head hang down between her arms. “Help me out here, don’t make me talk to my friends.” Y/N didn’t know if it was too early to say, but their banter felt a bit like old times.

“Don’t make me.”

Y/N groaned again, but she really only did it for show. This was her mess to clean up. “But where are they really? Do I have enough time to prepare a long apology for being a bitch or is this going to be freestyle?”

“Sokka and Hakoda are fishing. Teo and the Duke are exploring the temple. Haru, Toph and Aang are earthbending–”another great clash from below shook the temple and Y/N heard Toph whoop excitedly “–and Katara and Suki went to do laundry.”

“Why do the girls always have to do laundry?” Y/N grumbled and rolled over on her back. “Why didn’t you go help them?”

“Because I’m here–”

“–sharpening your swords?” Y/N snickered.

“Yes.”

“Because that’s so important.” Y/N poked Zuko’s kneecap and grinned. “Don’t worry, you’ll grow on them.”

“I don’t care if they like me.”

“You do,” Y/N teased. “You want all of them to like you, just like I did. You can’t help it. They’re all just too nice.”

“Whatever,” Zuko dropped his swords to the side and leaned back on his hands.

“You’re so irritable. Did you and Aang still do katas at sunrise?”

Zuko closed his eyes against the sunlight. “We do katas every morning.”

“You can take a day off, you know.”

“We can’t.” His voice was clipped and Y/N knew if she pushed any harder he’d either stop talking altogether, or start yelling.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in concern and spoke anyways. “Don’t burn him out, Zuko. Don’t burn yourself out either.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, but I just–”

“I’m not!”

Y/N smiled sheepishly. “Okay! Don’t yell at me.”

“Sorry.” Zuko mumbled.

---

The two of them lazed around the temple until the others came back, group by group. Y/N hadn’t felt this uncomfortable around her friends since she had joined with them after leaving Ba Sing Se. She could feel the tension in the air and Y/N kept cracking her knuckles to have something to do with her hands. They all looked at her warily, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even Sokka kept his distance, which broke Y/N’s heart.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed one another or at least destroyed the temple,” Sokka chuckled a bit awkwardly, trying to ease the tension.

Zuko and Y/N stood shoulder to shoulder in one of the many doorways of the temple. Y/N raised her eyebrows at Zuko and he shrugged, seemingly disinterested. “We’re friends again.”

“Well that must be nice for you,” Katara spat back.

Y/N and Zuko shared another sideways look. Katara never hid her dislike for Zuko, that much was obvious to everyone, but now it seemed like that dislike was shared partially with Y/N. She and Zuko making up and being friends again only added fuel to Katara’s anger.

Y/N twisted her finger around a strand of hair anxiously. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure. Guys?” Aang looked around at the others to see if anyone else was going to speak up. There was a chorus of affirmations but Katara just crossed her arms and huffed.

They all sat in a circle in the middle of the courtyard. The air was colder in the evenings, since it was mostly hidden from the sunlight. Y/N shivered at the way the biting wind slithered up the back of her shirt like a cold hand.

The seven of them stared at each other for a few beats, sharing glances among themselves and then quickly looking away. Sokka pulled his knees to his chest and twirled a stick between his fingers and Y/N stared at the graceful way it moved in a circle, she longed for those fingers to be intertwined with her own.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

She bowed her head slightly in submission before scrunching closed her eyes. She’d thought of her words carefully as she waited for them to come back. It didn’t mean it was any less humiliating. “Obviously that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’m so sorry for how I acted last night and for what I did. It was never my intention to lie to you.”

“But you did. Why didn’t you tell us?” Toph asked. Her voice wasn’t angry, it was disappointed.

“I hid it because I knew you wouldn’t be happy with me and I just wanted to keep the peace between us. I didn’t want anyone to question my motives. I know it’s wrong to think that way, to be so defensive. I trust you guys and you should be able to trust me too. I just didn’t want you to have doubt in me or to question my loyalties.”

“It’s not about sides!” Katara exploded. “We’re your friends, you don’t hide things from us.”

Y/N flinched back. “I know. I’m sorry that you had to hear me sympathize with someone that’s done so many bad things to you.”

“She’s done bad things to you too,” Suki reminded her softly.

Y/N’s eyes fixed on Suki’s brown ones. “Not like you,” Her eyes flitted to Aang’s soft grey ones. “Or you. Zuko was right last night,” Y/N heard him snort softly next to her, “I am selfish. I want pieces of my old life back and while I’m looking in the past I’m ignoring the good that’s in front of me.”

“You aren’t like her.”

Y/N’s eyes found Zuko’s. “Not anymore. But we but we both know there are more similarities than differences between us.”

That sentence seemed to weigh on everyone’s mind heavily. They sat and stewed in their own thoughts, and for the first time ever, Y/N was worried about her own future with her friends. It made her nauseous to consider the idea that she was no longer a trusted friend because of one awful mistake. It was a sobering thought; Azula–how she was now–would always be Y/N’s downfall. Azula had been correct in that aspect, what would Y/N have if she didn’t have her friends? Nothing. She’d be alone, just like Azula was now. It made Y/N’s regret spread that much deeper.

“It’s okay,” Aang’s voice was the first to break the silence. “I can’t blame you for wanting to see the best in someone.”

“I–Thank you.” Y/N blinked back tears. It didn’t matter that the rest of them followed suit and murmured their forgivenesses to Y/N, because while she was soothed by Toph’s arm punch and Sokka’s hug and the way Suki pressed her knee into Y/N’s at dinner that night, Aang’s forgiveness was the most needed. While his death in the crystal cavern had not been her turning point, it had still been her catalyst. It had changed her in ways she could never imagine. They all had. Maybe the reason why she wanted to see the good in Azula, wasn’t her own doing, but something that had been rubbed off by him onto her. Even through the hardship and the oppression, he was still a blinding light in the darkness and was just one of many that Y/N was trying to imitate more and more each day.

---

A/N: hmmmm, let me know what you guys think! The next part is mostly written and will be posted sooner than usual!! it’s very cute if I do say so myself.

tags: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @creation-magician @lunariasilver @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @p--e--a--c--h--e--s @izzieserra @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103 @im-the-galactic-starfish @charlotteisabella @alienmotel @smarshere @sugamonster22 @mellisophilia @calumsfringe @whatsuphoesandbros @samsmultifandomblogs @i-love-superhero @justasukisimp @grouchiest-hufflepuff @zukostan221 @feverish-dove @catchingrhythm @euphoricmads @ivetoldamillionlies @fanficsformyperusal @mikxyu @someonekeepstakingmyusernames @earthtokace @justamessandahalf @perfectlyfadingmusic @atlafanforlife @eyelash-curler @iris-suoh @chilifrylizard2 @cheese-its-and-lies @writequickly-blog @living-on-kyoshi @brightcosmos @someoneovertherainboww @stale-sandcastle @justarandomhoman @itsametaphorbriansblog @llamaly @moon-spirit-yue @moistpotatobear @missmorosis @sunflowerr-mami @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @september-ctd @pumpkinbowl14 @yoyokzzz

tags that don’t work: @jasminedrgon, @maruchan77, @la3divine @ohjustlookalive, @natsbelova @bison-whistle @certifiedfreak7 @smolbitch2006, @emogril @maruchan77 @ohjustlookalive @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @velveteencurls @oddment-nitwit-blubber-tweak @crxsshatcht @starxtt @ask-kfc-siblings @zuko-and-sokkas-simp @naanlianid

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka x y/n #sokka fics #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence #avatar fic #zuko #aang #suki #katara #sokka #toph beifong #traitor

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detroitbydark · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, Walon Vau... Every character imaginable and few that you probably didn't expect to see

Warnings: None!

Summary: Harvest Day is very busy day. The boys head home. Jessa faces some hard questions. Walon has to decide what is right for his growing clan.

A/N: 15K holy hell. Thanks your patience with this one. it was an undertaking! As always thank you to my wonderful @crimson-dxwn for letting me bounces ideas off of her and for her beta'ing. Thank @fractiouskat for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens for the greatest banner ever!

Kyr’vhetine Tuur comes on a most un-autumn like day with temperatures before the sun had fully risen already beginning to look to those of a cool summer morning. The winds had disappeared almost entirely overnight, leaving only a gentle breeze that barely kissed the nunas’ feathers

It was going to be an excellent day to celebrate the end of the growing season and the bounty of the harvest, Kal had proclaimed before the groups had split off.

Walon wasn’t one to argue the good fortune of a perfect day. He was old enough to know they didn’t come often and still young enough to appreciate it for all it was.

He pulls a deep filtered breath in while his HUD scans the surrounding tree line.

Per tradition, hunting parties had broken off at the crack of dawn in search of game. This would be one of the last good days for a hunt before the snows came and the animals disappeared into the white wonderland of northern Mandalore. It wouldn’t be prudent to attempt again until the heat of summer fell and the mothers had dropped babies and could be more easily avoided.

Rav Bralor and her boys from Yayax squad - as well as the former commander Levet - had come in the night before, much to Walon’s chagrin. Sleeping arrangements were far tighter these days with the various marriages and additional children. He’d had to put his foot down when Kal had offered his rooms up to the entirety of the Bralor clan. In compromise, Walon had allowed Rav and Levet to take up Jessa’s room and she had moved into Scorch and Sev’s while the rest of the clan piled in with the other bachelors.

Walon pretended that he didn’t know his Ad’ika had spent most nights asleep in Scorch’s bed already and simply explained that he didn’t think either commando would appreciate others sleeping in their space. She’d eagerly complied.

She was still asleep when he, Mird, Rav and Levet had gone to meet the other early risers for their hunt.

The verdant summer greens had faded first into jewel toned fallen leaves and finally crisp brown litter that spilled across the forest floor. It added a layer of difficulty that the Mando’ade found a pleasant challenge. Shatual were a finicky creature, as likely to run away from a hunter as they were to attack it. The crunch of leaves under boots was enough to solicit either response and many an unlucky Mando had found themselves enjoying the scent of bacta rather than the taste of shatual haunch after a hunt gone bad.

Each clan of the former training sergeants was represented this morning. Kal and Ordo had set off in one direction while Mereel and Corr had gone another. Rav and Levet had joined in as well. Walon, no human adiike of any ability in sight, had Mird as his hunting companion.

The strill stalks ahead through the tops of the veshuk trees, silent as death itself. The sun had yet to penetrate the forest around him and the stillness, the sheer quiet of the morning calmed him like little else could. Two days and still Fenn Shysa’s intel bothered him on a level he wasn’t familiar with.

Of course the Empire would look to make money where it could. Of course clone lives meant less now than they had to the GAR and the Republic at large.

Maybe it was the fact that they all had adiike still on the ranks - if they’d managed to survive this long - or perhaps it was the fact that they weren’t even being sold as slaves.

Walon, Kal, Rav and the rest of Cuy’val dar had raised competent soldiers, the best of the best. He himself had spouted that they were to be tools of the Grand Army, that their one purpose was fighting for the Army that in the end would give little thought to the clone -the men- they sent into battle. Now, to hear of them being sold as surplus like a decommissioned line of blasters or transports left Vau feeling sick and angry in a way that wasn’t familiar with. Righteous indignation was a state of being for Kal Skirata, but for Walon Vau it was new and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering in his chest.

Mird chirps from his spot in the canopy above, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He nods carefully to the strill and readjusts his sensors to pick up heat signatures through the dense brush. Not twenty yards away a flare of color through his HUD as a great shatual buck rises from its bed, shaking its head unawares of the danger that waits for it.

Over two and a half meters from top of its dark nose to the white fluff of its tail. The spread on its rack is impressive and would make a fine display on any wall. It makes a low bellowing noise, calling for any unbred females.

Walon can see the lines of Mird’s body strung tight in preparation. It’s almost time and the Mandalorian can feel the cool calm of a hunter’s mind wash over him. There is nothing else in the moment, only hunter and prey. He says his thanks to the Manda for another day of air in his lungs and another opportunity to stalk the dark forest. He doesn’t need to look at Mird any longer. They’ve been doing this since he was a teenager. The strill is ready and waiting for the signal. Walon leans back slowly against a veshuk tree and raises his slugthrower to his shoulder. Only one word leaves his mouth.

“Oya.”

The shatual turns its head in time to see its death, teeth on display bearing down on it from the trees above.

A strill with business in mind will always go for the throat. A tiny shiver of pleasure skitters down the back Walon’s neck as the creature finds its target. It’s satisfying in a way that Walon’s never been able to put into words. The shatual tries in vain to throw the smaller strill off, shaking its big neck from side to side. Strill teeth are long and sharp and Mird will not be budged, even as blood from the shatual begins to run into his eyes. Walon watches his oldest friend readjust his grip, only his back feet touch the ground as he all but hangs from his prey. The shatual makes a forlorn sound as its front legs buckle, sending him down to his front knees.

Walon levels the sight on the slug thrower as the creature turns broadside. It bellows again but it comes out wet and choked. Vau finds the sweet spot, imagining an invisible “x” over the spot he wants to hit. He pulls in a gentle breath, all thought of auctions and clones and adiike pushed aside. He squeezes the trigger on his exhale and the shatual falls silent.

————

Sev doesn’t balk when Scorch asks to make a quick pit stop in Enceri. He doesn’t bat an eye when he forgoes their usual perusal of the blaster smiths for a box of fresh pastries. He doesn’t so much as question Scorch’s motives until they get to the flower shop. Even then it’s just more of silent Sev with extra eyes burning into the back of Scorch’s head.

The words had come to Scorch easily enough, they always did. They needed to woo their intended. He didn’t like the word courting, something about it felt too old timey and proper, not like something two former commandos turned bounty hunters would do. Sev seemed to find his explanation acceptable. He was good for rolling with the punches no matter what anyone else said. He even let his like and dislikes of the various options be known in a series of very Sev-like grunts and scoffs. Scorch liked the red ones. Sev liked the pink. They split the difference and got both and jumbled them together into - what Scorch felt - was a very appealing assortment. It took almost no time and it left the former commando pleased with his previously unknown ability to romance a woman.

And then they were heading home.

The sun had barely crested over the mountains when they arrived at the airfield and performed a quick once over of the Duke. She’d require a more thorough shakedown later but today was Kyr’vhetine Tuur - Jessa and Sev’s first on Mandalore - and in Scorch’s eyes that took precedence. His heart is light and bubbly as their speeder bikes cover the ground between the airfield and Kyrimorut. Last time they’d done this he’d had a half frozen woman wrapped in his arms and now, just months later, he was plotting ways to get her back into them. Into theirs.

He knew his vod enough to know that he wasn’t fully on board with the mission as of yet. He didn’t see the odds of a favorable success and he remained open but unimpressed by the possibility of it all. That was ok. Scorch had enough hope and atin’la for the two of them.

It’s not until Kyrimorut becomes little mounds on the horizon that the jitters start. Scorch has picked up women in cantinas. He’s taken them back to small hotels or their homes. Scorch has left everyone with a smile on their face. He has never properly courted someone. It’s been ten days and he’s starting to second guess what he thought was there. Maybe Jessa didn’t feel the same pull. Maybe the kiss was a fluke.

“Shut up.” Sev’s voice growls through their comms, “you’re thinking too loud.”

Scorch says nothing.

The yard in front of the yaim is crowded with a speeder and a trio of speeder bikes. The Bralors. Scorch frowns. He really doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience.

The pair park in the usual spot and slide from their seats. The sun is bright, its rays warming the wind whipped beskar covering them. Sev’s buyce cocks to the side as he turns toward the tree line. Scorch can make out the shape of their buir from a kilometer away.

“Went hunting without me,” Sev grumbles sounding like a petulant child who’s missed dessert.

Mird takes up position next to Wal’buir and Scorch can just make out the shape between them. Impressive.

“I’m going to go lend a hand.”

Sev is gone, taking off at a brisk jog with his pack still on his back before Scorch can say anything. If he didn’t think it’d get him slotted, he’d call him a coward.

There’s nothing left to do but take the plunge. Scorch waves to Atin and a few of the boys from Yayax squad as they head out toward the livestock pens. Chores would be done in a snap today and everyone can enjoy themselves after.

His HUD takes a moment to auto adjust from the intense bright light of the sun to the dimmer interior of their home. Conn, Burr, and Kad are all playing in the main area of the house. The three boys sit around in the floor with small carved animals playing near but not exactly with one another. Three matching heads of dark hair turn when they see him, eyes widening comically as they scrabble to get up. He’s done this a thousand times now and it never gets old. He swings his pack off his shoulder and, careful to not jostle the bouquet inside, draws out a handful of colorful hard candies. The children are nearly vibrating with excitement as he doles them out. Before he can turn to the kitchen, Conn already has three in his mouth. Bes is going to kill him, he thinks with a grin.

Surprisingly the kitchen is not the hub of excitement it usually was. He glances at his chrono. They must be having a late breakfast because of the hunt. Fi and Parja are pulling pans out of the oven and Laseema is busy filling small pots for the table with different jams and butters. Kyr’vhetine Tuur meant there would be something to eat within arm’s reach all day, so it wasn’t shocking to not see the usual spread of hearty filling dishes lining the long table.

“Scorch! You made it!” It’s Fi’s voice, bright as the autumn sun. The former Omega Squad commando greets him, ambling over and giving him a quick grasp of the forearm and knock against the bucket in greeting.

“Good to be home,” he agrees, feeling disappointment begin to sink in. Parja is grinning his way. “She’s in the walk-in. She’ll be out in a-“

There’s a clatter as a tray is unceremoniously dropped on the counter and before he can turn to see he’s got his arms full. One boot falls back to brace his weight and keep him from stumbling at the onslaught. He tenses for a moment, training threatening to kick in until thin arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s got a visor full of dark hair as Jessa presses in close to his neck.

“If this is how I get welcomed home I’m leaving more often.”

Jessa’s arms around his neck squeeze tighter as he stands straight and pulls her feet off the floor. Her legs come up, knees tightening around his hips. Scorch’s hands grip her thighs because they need support. Yeah, that’s why.

“Don’t you dare.” She whispers lowly.

“Keep this up and a guy will think you missed him.”

Scorch doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Parja and Laseema. He doesn’t hear Fi’s laughter. It’s just him and his girl and the rest of the world can kriff off.

Jessa leans back, her hands float to either side of his buyce. She stares into the T of his visor like she can see through it. The breath he’d been taking catches in his throat as she leans in and presses her forehead to his bucket.

“I missed you.” It’s so soft his buyce barely picks it up.

“Missed you too, Mesh’la.” If he didn’t have his bucket on he’d kiss her right here right now and not care who was watching. He’d push her back against the wall and he wouldn’t stop ‘til she was breathless. He doesn’t think she’d mind with the way she’s looking at him. Fett bless codpieces because his was saving his shebs from utter embarrassment.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Jessa’s pale blue eyes go wide. She wiggles against him and a small groan slips past his lips as he lets loose her legs. She untangles herself and slips to the floor, cheeks flushed crimson as she wipes at invisible creases in her pants.

Parja’s buyce cocks minutely. Scorch grins from ear to ear under the cover of his own. At Parja’s side Fi nudges her in the ribs. “How come I don’t get that kind of welcome home?”

“Bad balance.” Fi nods in understanding flushing a deep crimson as she continues. “Plus, there is that thing with my mouth-“

The former medic coughs and quickly places his hand over his riddur’s mouth. “Roger that. No need to clarify.”

Scorch reaches out, placing a hand above Jessa’s hip. When she turns he uses two gloves fingers to tip her chin up. She’s a sight for sore eyes. He wants to drag her back to the Vau side of the yaim and keep her all for himself. And Sev. Just the three of them like it was supposed to be. Only, she didn’t know that yet and they had to help her see. Her hand covers his wrist as she looks up, her skin is soft over the small strip of skin between his nerf hide gloves and where his flight suit began.

Jessa’s dark hair is pulled back into a messy top knot and she’s wearing a plain faded tunic that dips low, giving him just a peek of cleavage. She’s never looked more perfect in all the times he’s seen her.

“We brought you something.” It’s regrettable that he has to step away, he misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He slips his pack from one shoulder and lets it slide around front. He’s careful to open it, glancing up to see her curiously eyeing him.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” The quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know she’s joking, at least partly.

“Woman after my own heart,” he sighs dramatically. “You want fireworks? I’ll show you fireworks.”

Fi makes an ‘oof’ of pain as both his Riddur and Laseema pop him in the arm at the same time, “I didn’t say anything?!”

“You were thinking it,” Laseema says, arms crossed over her chest.

“But I didn’t say it!”

Scorch shakes his head, ignoring the audience. The bouquet is a little bedraggled, a little more worse for wear for its ride from the airfield to home. A few of the pink flowers have bent at odd angles and one of the red ones, a rose, has lost its structural integrity (and majority of its petals).

The look in Jessa’s eyes lets him know she hasn’t noticed a single one of the issues. They go wide with surprise and then crinkle at the corners as she smiles, clapping her hands together over her chest before reaching out, hand hovering just shy of the flowers.

“Scorch! They’re beautiful! And they’re for me?”

It’s a little confusing because he certainly hadn’t ever thought to bring flowers for Ordo or Atin. He nods his head and presses them into her hands.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Sev had a hand in them too.” She pulls a long slow breath in through her nose. The scent really didn’t translate through his bucket but she seems to enjoy it.

“Sev? Sev Vau?” Fi’s voice is full of confusion. “We’re talking about the same psychopath we all know and love.”

“Hush.” Parja admonishes her husband. It’s an expected reaction. Sev was known more for his kill now ask questions later, Devil may murder attitude than he was for his softer side. In fact, Scorch was beginning to think the extent of his soft side only existed in a conveniently Jessa sized space. He was good with that. Maybe it was selfish to try to force her into a space they could both be with her. They didn’t even know if she wanted this but they had already plotted out a course of action and he was loathe to change it now. It was the Vau way. Make a plan and push forward until it worked or you died. Square peg round hole? Use a det.

Jessa folds the flimsy wrapped bouquet against her chest. She takes a step forward and Scorch can’t help but admire whatever has come over her in the ten days they’ve been hunting. She grips the back of his bucket and pulls his head down and presses against his again. There’s more confidence in that one movement than he’s seen in all the months she’s been in Kyrimorut.

“We should get those in water.” Laseema’s voice is a blessed interruption from the pure drivel he was about to spout.

Jessa nods and turns toward the cupboards, searching for something. His eyes fall to the round curve of her-

“Ahem…” his eyes snap to Laseema’s skeptical face. She’s got her arms over her ample chest and he suddenly feels the eyes of the rest of the room on him. Ok so now he feels seen. Parja is unreadable under her buyce. Fi’s eyes hold humor and Scorch knows immediately that the whole homestead - and then some - is going to know about this before the day is out.

Good. Maybe that would keep the other hounds from taking to the hunt. Not that Jessa was prey or should be hunted or…

“Scorch?”

Stang. He’s been caught. Jessa’s turned back with a stoneware pitcher and the flowers he’d given her artfully placed inside.

“Mesh’la?”

“Princess.”

All eyes turn to Sev and Walon standing in the doorway. A large shatual haunch is draped over Sev’s shoulder while their buir carefully uses a cloth to clean one of his hunting knives. He’s thankfully forgotten and Jessa passes the table, depositing the makeshift vase. She doesn’t exactly leap into his arms like she had for him but she’s still more than mildly enthusiastic to see the Mandalorian in front of her.

As usual, Sev appears impassive. The slight rise in his shoulders speaks otherwise as Jessa - much smaller than the man in front of her - comes to a stop and absolutely kriffing beams at the former sharp shooter. Wal’buir stands a step behind the pair, looking on with veiled curiosity.

“I like my flowers.”

“I picked the pink ones.” It's a Sev-level simple exchange.

“You did good,” she murmurs softly.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” It’s the first time Scorch has noticed the clean linen bandage wound around her palm. Of course, it would be the first thing Sev noticed. He watches her reaction carefully. His buir watches knowingly as Jessa tries to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing really. A little cut.”

Parja is the one to speak up this time. “Jess’ika tried to take in an entire Imp garrison in Keldabe the other day.”

Behind Sev, buir scoffs. Sev seems unamused as he brushes past her and places the freshly butchered haunch on the open durasteel prep counter and moves to the sink to wash his hands. Buir glances down at her as he passes and moves to the stack of mugs and carafes of caf sitting on the table. Apparently the old barve is going to let it play out without his intervention.

Scorch hovers in space watching as Sev turns back to Jessa. She’s shortened the distance between them and he nods to her hand. It takes a moment. Jessa clutches her wrist tightly and Scorch wonders what the Fek happened. Mird trots in from parts unknown and plops down next to buir. The merc begins cleaning off equal parts blood and saliva from the strill’s mouth as if nothing were amiss.

“It wasn’t really a big deal,” Jessa says, a defense. Fi makes a sound in his throat.

“Anytime now Princess.” As if ordered from a commanding officer she takes the final steps and holds her hand out. Scorch moves to taking up post at Sev��s shoulder as his vod begins untying the wrap.

“How long?”

Their buir answers from across the room. “Three days.”

Scorch lets out a low whistle as the bandage rolls away and the bacta soaked linen is removed. It’s nasty, deep looking. With three days worth of bacta and presumed early cleansing… he works it out in his head. It had been a bad wound. Sev is stock still, holding her hand in his palm.

“What did it?”

“My knife.” There’s no waiver in her voice, she looks him in the eye, a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You mean my knife.”

Jessa mouths falls open a hair before her teeth clack together and she sets her jaw.

Sev is unmoved. “Hand it over.”

And there goes the pleasant welcome home.

There’s more pairs of eyes on them than Scorch is really pleased about. A staring contest in the kitchen was not part of the plan. It’s a war of the wills as Sev takes a step into Jessa’s space. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t react at all.

“There’s two ways this will go and I end up with the knife in both.” Sev’s rumble is a threat that is crystal clear to anyone within earshot. He holds his unwavering gloves hand palm up between them. Scorch glances at his buir and sees a single shake of his head, fall back and wait.

Jessa pauses the length of a breath. Then she presses her injured hand hard against Sev’s cuirass for support while she pulls her leg up. Scorch has to give it to her. She keeps her eyes locked with his vod’s visor. If she were jetii his brain would probably be frying by now. He wondered if that was even possible and makes a mental note to ask Bardan later if that was a Jedi brain sizzle was a thing.

With her left hand she pulls the knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. For a second he thinks she may just drop it on the floor between them. The thought seems mutual as he glances around and the few inhabitants of the kitchen are watching with unrestrained curiosity. Jessa’s thinking very loudly. He can see it in the way her movements hitch. Had he given off that many signals Sarge would have cuffed him by now.

“Ad’ika, do give the scary Commando the weapon and be done with all the posturing.”

Jessa’s eyes drop but her voice remains steely. “Yes buir.”

There’s a lot for Scorch to unpack there, but his buir doesn’t seem willing to add anything to clarify for either of his confused sons.

Jessa presses the knife handle into Sev’s open hand. Her own ball into fists as she steps away from the larger Mandalorian in front of her. Scorch’s eyes immediately fall to the painfully slow drip of blood from her injured hand as she clenches and unclenches. Her partial handprint is painted in blood on Sev’s cuirass. Laseema notices and grabs a clean cloth. Jessa’s cheeks flush red as she turns away from both of them to face Laseema.

The Twi’lek shoots both men a dirty look as she presses the cloth into Jessa’s palm. She doesn’t flinch as the older woman fusses over her quietly. He makes out a few particularly colorful Ryl words.

“Let’s go to medical and get this redressed, ok?” Laseema’s soft voice belays the fierce glare in her eyes as they focus on Sev. With a huff and a protective arm draped around Jessa’s shoulders she ushers her toward the Skirata wing and medical just beyond.

“Real nice.” It’s Parja now on the attack, arms crossed over her chest in a manner most unwelcoming. She turns to follow the other two women. Their buir sighs deeply and Sev cocks his head at the door the three have just vanished through.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Fi says what Scorch thinks only in a much less exasperated tone than his own inner dialogue. That escalated quickly. A moment’s glance to his brother shows the other Mando is just as confused with how quickly that hit FUBAR status.

Behind them Walon Vau clears his throat. “So would my di’kutla boys care to know what happened while they traipsed across the galaxy?”

———

“You’re getting spoiled and fat, Kal.”

Walon does a fair job of hiding his amusement at Rav’s assessment of their fellow Cuy’val Dar vod.

Not to have his holiday merriment karked up by the Bralor clans matriarch Kal grins and pats the fine layer of paunch, barely noticeable around his middle.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you vod’ika”

That has Walon scoffing into his glass of ti’haar. Kyr’vhetine Tuur called for day drinking and Bralor clan had brought their latest batch, a reason for a lunchtime tasting if he’d ever heard one.

For his part, Mij Gilamar does little to hide his laughter, openly laughing at the Skirata clan leader. Rav was right, as Rav usually was. Kal’s favorite rocker had moved from its home by the hearth of the karyai to a comfortable position where he could lord over the comings and goings of the day. When lunch had been served Laseema had brought a plate loaded to the brim with the best cuts of meat, juicy orchard fruit, and freshly roasted root vegetables.

Kal turns his sharp eyes to Walon, ignoring the mirth dancing in Mij’s. “Nothing to say, Walon?”

He rolls his eyes, lowering his glass from his lips. “Rav’s assessment skills have not atrophied with age.”

Rav makes a disgruntled sound. “Thank you, Walon. I think.”

Mij, quiet to this moment, picks now to speak. “He can’t exactly say anything.”

Walon can’t exactly disagree. His own belly was quite full in part to his newest acquisition. Jessa had given him a plate - while not as loaded down as Kal’s had been - that could have easily fed two commandos. And some for Mird. She’d been very clear that she’d swiped a choice soup bone and some delightful strips of fat for the strill. His pet had taken the scraps happily before he’d been offered the bone and disappeared to do whatever it was that a strill did with bones. All Walon knew is that it would never be seen again and he wouldn’t need to clean up shards of it.

Rav leans back in her chair, not a rocker but still more comfortable than any of them had grown used to over the years, she sips her drink and Walon waits for it.

“When I heard through the grapevine that you’d adopted another I was shocked. And now that I’ve seen her I’m more so.”

There it was. There was no worse gossip in the galaxy than a Mandalorian.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Rav smiles. “Take it as you will. I’m still trying to figure out the why and obviously you are not going to illuminate us with your reasoning.”

Walon crosses one leg lazily over the other as he leans back. In a small shaded area across the open yard Jessa sits happily chatting with the Skirata wives. She looks genuinely happy and that makes him feel warm… or maybe that was the ti’haar.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turns and catches his. Her smile is radiant, like sunshine brought to life.

Walon leans forward and liberates the ceramic liquor bottle from Kal’s side and tops his glass off.

“The little ad has grown on me, much like a tumor.”

Mij, never as tolerant of alcohol as his peers, chortles merrily. “Leave it to you to compare having children to cancer.”

Walon shrugs. “Have one and find out.” Mij scoffs at the idea and the group settles into a comfortable silence.

Jessa and the wives chat idly. Further past the women, the former commandos and Null ARCs are dividing up into teams on the makeshift pitch. Some words pass between one of the Bralor adike and Walon curiously watches as Scorch grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to a stop.

Meshgeroya would be good. The lot of them needed a good match. The amount of testosterone flying around the yaim as of late was stifling. It would be good for the mass to get it out of their systems before someone had an unfortunate incident.

“Of course it would be yours, wouldn’t it?” Rav sounds about as worried about the averted skirmish as he feels. Boys would be boys and Fett clones would be Fett clones. He hadn’t met one yet that hadn’t gotten at least some of Jango’s competitive nature.

“Who’s to say my lads started it?” He raises a brow in Rav’s direction and she challengingly raises one right back.

Kal clears his throat, drawing the attention of the trio. “We’ve got to discuss the information the Mand’alor passed along at some point.”

“Din’kartay?” Mij asks, setting his now empty glass on the ground. Kal nods. His eyes follow the first snap of the match for a few moments as bodies collide and whoops and hollers rise into the air. His eyes travel over the gathered group, all four of them sharing something no other Mandalorians could - a past and a shared future in the form of their adopted children.

“Surplus auction has been moved up.”

Walon’s eye widen. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Just got the comm this morning, after the hunt,” The greying merc explains, “It’s a week from now.”

“A week?” Rav waves it off. “We’ve planned ops in less.” Walon wasn’t feeling the same sense of comfort as his vod. Something was coming, the proverbial other boot waiting to drop.

“We’ve got a problem.”

There it was. Of course, there was a problem. Kal doesn’t wait to ratchet up the drama of it all thankfully.

“Our intel says the boys are going to be in two separate places, troopers in a subterranean holding bay and the few commandos we're expecting are going to be a part of the main auction floor, two stories up.”

Mij frowns. “So we need a two pronged approach.”

“Which means two teams with one in the actual auction itself.” Walon sighs at the realization. “And none of the boys are exactly inconspicuous.”

Kal nods sagely. “That is the issue.” His eye wanders again and still Walon feels like he hasn’t heard the worst of it. “Bes can’t go. She’s already starting to show and we can’t put her or the baby at risk.” That is valid reasoning. Walon nods slowly. “This is a high end event. The cream of the crop.”

“So that means human…” Mij says shaking his head with disgust, “Las’ika is out.”

“Parja is Mando.” Rav says with an air of pride. “She’s not going to pass for aruetii elite even with time and training.”

This time Walon follows Kal’s eyes when they stray from the group. Jessa is sitting in the small half circle of women while the children run around and play a short distance away. She glances shyly at the commandos playing their game. The shirts have come off and while the buir’e and family could tell one from the other without any issue, to the casual observer it would be hard to seperate a Skirata from a Bralor from a Vau. Parja makes a comment and Jessa’s face flushes bright red. Her anger with Sev from earlier seems to have subsided if the way she’s staring at his shebs has anything to say about it.

“Your Jess’ika came from money.” Kal presses on, a fool’s errand. “She can play in that sandbox as well as you could-“

“No. Absolutely not.” Walon doesn’t even want the idea entertained among the group.

“She won’t be in any Imperial database. She’s got no record. Who would you have go, Walon? Send a twi’lek? Send a pregnant woman?”

“Neither, but I’d also not have my child sent as a sacrifice either.” Rav and Mij are silent. Yes, keep your mouths closed as Bu and Buhi fight, he thinks sourly.

“Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say no herself?”

“Again, absolutely not. She is so eager to please and you with your words of aliit and pats on the head would have her signing up for war before she even knew what was going on.”

“If your worries are about Sev and Scorch-“

Walon holds up a hand, “they are not my concern in this, she is. I put them through the crucible myself. They are more than capable of handling anything placed in front of them. Jess’ika is an unknown commodity-“

“We’ve all been through the ringer at one point or another but-“

Walon raises a brow. “If this is going to be a story about poor Kal the war orphan you can stow it. She has no training.”

“Walon-“

“Gentlemen?” Mij asserts easily. His ire turns from Kal to his own sons as soon as his head turns a cheer of “Oya” rises up between the teams. Sev is on top of one of Rav’s boys raining hellfire while Scorch runs his yappy mouth and does a commendable job of taking a punch from another. The rest of the pack has circled and is shouting encouragement.

“Can we not just have one nice day?” he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

“Cov!” Rav snaps at Yayax Squad’s former sergeant from across the open yard. His enjoyment of his brother's tussle is quickly replaced by the stark realization that their buir was on her way and she was not pleased.

Walon watches as Sev slows, giving who looked to be Jind under him, a chance to breathe. He sits back on his heels still atop the prone Mando, chest heaving. He has the decency not to smile but Walon can see the delight from the little tussle dancing in his eyes.

Scorch on the other hand, continues to run his mouth as he trades blows with Yayax’s second in command, Yover.

“And now you keep your eyes where they ought to be.”

Walon can only imagine what started all of this, but he’s very clear in who’s going to be the one to finish it.

“Six-Two!” Scorch’s momentum falters as Walon snaps irritably, “Are you nearly done?”

“Yeah buir- just- about-there..”’ Scorch punctuates the last hit, slipping a foot behind Yover’s and shoving him to the ground. “Finished.”

Walon feels a surge of pride but it is far outweighed by irritation.

“Care to explain what the thought process was for this?”

Sev reaches down and helps pull Jind to his feet. He holds back a smile as Walon glares.

“Verbal correction didn’t work so methods required escalation,” Scorch explains without getting to the actual cause of the whole skirmish. “We’re good now, right ner vod?”

Yover glares balefully from his spot on the ground before nodding assent and holding his hand out. “Apologies, sergeant Vau, we were out of line and needed a quick recalibration.”

Walon’s eyes narrow. Rav has Jind by the chin, turning his face right and left assessing the damage. His eye is already swelling but it appears as if Sev worked his middle over more than anything, really rather harmless in the grand scheme of what he was capable of. The other commando appears no worse for wear.

“You said something stupid, didn’t you?” she questions, and he offers her a lopsided grin in response. Walon watches as she cuffs the larger man, though there is no real animosity behind it. He ducks and offers a sheepish, “Sorry Buir.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Mij joins the group.

“Just my pride Doc.” Jind tries to make his glance over to the group of women casual.

For the love of Fett… Walon rolls his eyes. All of this over a woman. Jessa is looking on with unshielded concern but her eyes follow Sev and Scorch as they fall back to one another’s side

- not the boys from Yayax squad.

“Your adiike ought to be muzzled, Walon,” Rav grumbles, as they step back and the men begin to reset their game.

“Probably, but they’re a bit territorial and I can’t blame them.”

Rav glances over and sighs, “I need to get mine into Enceri. Let them meet a nice girl.”

“What is it you’re saying about my daughter, Rav?”

“She looks sweet Walon but the apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?”

Walon pauses at the thought. It’s a wonder it’s never hit him before. Rav takes his silence as permission to continue.

“So will it be Sev or Scorch?”

Mij hums as if the question has occurred to him as well. Walon curses himself for not asking it sooner.

——

“It’s over with. You can relax.” Besany means well enough sitting cross legged on the blanket the small group of women shared but it’s hard to press the nerves of what she’d just witnessed to the background.

Conn, Burr, and Kad play a short ways away, oblivious to what had just transpired. They stack sticks in a tower trying to see how high they can make it before it topples over and they dissolve into laughter. Bes was probably right. This was probably normal and she needed to relax.

Jessa runs her finger along the hand sewn seam of the blanket. Her eyes follow as the stitches flow in and out of the fabric. Parja pats her hand. Jessa looks up.

“They’re fine, see?” She inclines her head toward the game that has restarted. “Sometimes things boil over, but it’s usually nothing a few well placed punches can’t settle.

“It’s just-“

Laseema offers a gentle smile. “When you haven’t seen it before it’s a little overwhelming?”

Jessa snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Terrifying maybe?” It’s Parja’s turn to scoff.

“If Sev Vau wanted someone dead they’d be dead. And in short order at that.” She gestures to the pitch and the bodies crashing together. “That was just working out a minor disagreement.”

It’s not hard for her to find the man in question among the crowd, the four jagged scars down his back stand out pink and raised over the hard planes of muscle, stark against the deep tan of his skin. Further up she can make out a circular scar, not as extreme as the other ones but perfectly symmetric as if done with a scalpel on the back of his neck. She's curious but not enough to actually ask about it. There’s a feeling that some things were sacred. Some things you didn’t just ask questions about. Even without the scars she wouldn’t be able to miss the way he moved. Like a jungle cat, he stalks from one spot to the next. He’s solid and sleek. He’s a hunter to his very core. No one else moves like him.

Scorch is simple to find for other reasons. It’s not the smattering of burns across his chest and arms or the way his sweat soaked curls stick to his forehead. No, it’s the sheer volume of his voice. Currently he’s crowing over Corr with the ball tucked under his arm. His eyes are sparkling and Jessa follows a bead of sweat as it trails from his hairline down his temple.

Sev appears at his side and butterflies tumble over one another in an attempt to escape her stomach. The sniper nudges his brother with his shoulder and says something and then both sets of eyes look up. Caught in the act of staring, she quickly looks away.

If the other women notice the interaction, they don’t let it dissuade them from the train of conversation that has seemingly jumped off the track and gone from encouraging their young friend to commenting on some of the more enticing aspects of the men on the field.

“Why are they so pretty?” Laseema asks, tipping a bottle of Ne’tra Gal up and taking a drink. Parja holds her own up in a mock toast.

“I don’t know but you’ll never hear me complain.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe stronger genetic variation doesn’t exist through the whole batch.” Everyone turns toward Bes. Parja nudges Jessa in the side as if to say, wait for it.

“Literally, how can there be so many perfect shebse?”

There’s a pause and then laughter bubbles up, giggles and chuckles. For a moment they are not mothers and warriors and former slaves, they are just women enjoying the view on a nice day.

“Who has the best?” Laseema asks as the giggles die down. In unison, Bes and Parja announce Mereel as the winner.

“You could bounce a credit off of that ass.” Bes says, barely able to maintain a straight face. Jessa flushes as Laseema agrees. She really hadn’t looked but now that she allows herself to she had to admit it’s a glorious sight. They are all glorious. Stripped of armor and flight suits, of the black under armor tops they all still prefer from their days in active duty they are pristine examples of what a man could be physically.

“You could wash clothing on Levet’s abs.” Parja adds. Bes nods in agreement. And it goes like this through the various family members. Fi’s smile. Atin’s back. Corr’s thighs. Bardan’s eyes. Jessa is happy to sit back and smile, every now and again nodding as the Skirata men are ogled and rated.

“What about the Vau’s?” Bes asks after a few minutes. There’s silence. Jessa feels the prickle of irritation at the quiet until she looks up and realizes three sets of eyes are looking intently at her.

“So…” Parja asks slowly, “you're part of this game too you know.”

For a second she thinks she might just wave them off, say something about not feeling right saying *hose kind of things but Parja is right and though she’s loathe to admit it - she has been looking and not just since the armor and clothes started to get peeled off and piled neatly on the sidelines. She flashes back to this morning in the kitchen when she’d pushed out of the walk-in and seen the familiar gunmetal and yellow beskar’gam and how her wits had left her. His arms had felt so good around her, holding her close after she’d flung herself - consequences be damned - at him. Scorch is an easy answer.

“His hands.”

This seems to be an answer everyone is agreeable with. Laseema hums quietly and all eyes travel back to the field and watch the former commando of the moment. He offers a cheeky smile and wave before the ball is snapped and turns back.

“Opinions on Sev?” It’s Parja again distracting her from the game at hand. The Mandalorian woman has a sly grin on her face. What was she getting at? Of course, Jessa had opinions on Sev. The strong muscles of his arms bracketing her, his thick trunk she could lean back into… jessa takes a moment to slow the race of thoughts.

“Sev doesn’t count in this.” Bes speaks up. The tone of her voice, the dismissive way she says it raises Jessa’s hackles.

“Yes he does.”

Bes startles nearly as much as Jessa does at her own words. Of course Sev mattered. He mattered more to her than any of the Skiratas and just as much as Scorch. “Best shoulders of the bunch.” She adds primly after an awkward moment of silence.

Parja barks out a laugh and watches the next play, Sev has his arms wrapped around Atin, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him face down with an elbow pressed into his back, “ok, she’s got a point.”

Laseema nods while Bes remains red faced and quiet.

The children, Kad, Conn, and Burr offer a distraction from the awkwardness that hangs in the air. The younger two head immediately for their mother while Kad seems to take a moment contemplating which aunt suits his current needs best. Jessa yawns. She hadn’t slept well the night before with strangers just a door away and it was beginning to take a toll.

It’s all Kad needs to see. He is a headstrong child when the mood hits and he was not one to be denied. Having learned both of these things Jessa doesn’t argue as he crawls into her lap.

“Sleepy?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the question but as she’d discovered even if a child was tired they’d be loath to admit it. Kad turns his face into her shoulder and Jessa wraps her arms around him. Bes and Parja excuse themselves. Bes steers the boys toward the yaim for naps of their own and Parja makes an excuse about bringing a tray of food out for the ‘old barves’ to pick at.

Laseema lounges back onto her elbows, eyes following the game that seems to be wrapping up. Jessa isn’t entirely familiar with the rules, but it doesn’t seem like the players are really following any set guideline. More or less they’re playing for the enjoyment of it. Jessa visually checks in on her boys. Always close to one another, Scorch talks rapidly to Sev as he points to Ordo and then to Corr on the other team. Sev nods in acknowledgement at whatever plan has been made.

Kad nuzzles in closer to her chest and Jessa eases the pair of them onto the blanket to lie down. The sun is warm and it leaves her feeling drowsy and content. Kad lays his head on her arm as she rolls to watch the game. His little fingers poke and prod until her other arm is draped over him to his liking.

In the air the song birds flit, taking a break from their southerly migration. The sounds of good natured ribbing and laughing comes from the game field before her and the group of buir’e behind her.

“So which would you choose?” The question catches her off guard. “Sev or Scorch?”

Jessa doesn't speak. Her eyes follow the pair as they play. Never far apart. Working together without words as if they were of the same mind. She can’t imagine one without the other or how it must have been for both before Sev had been brought back from Kasshyk.

The thought of making a choice has never occurred to her because the thought of anything more than the simple life she’s settled into is a seed barely sprouted. She frowns at the thought. If they both wanted to pursue something then of course she’d have to choose one versus the other but It doesn’t feel right, like separating a set. How would they react? Would they be competitive? Would they fight against one another? Would it tear the family apart? She’d rather be alone the rest of her days than see her fragile new family torn apart by her choice.

“Neither.”

Laseema cocks her head questioningly. Her lek curl and uncurl in a soothing manner Jessa can pick up from the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.”

———-

During a mission, when exertion and strain and sweat were a thing, Sev didn’t mind the thin sheen of perspiration that accumulated on his skin. He ignored the beads of it at his temples and the way rivulets of it ran down his back. Afterwards though, it was different. Since Kasshyk a lot of things had been different. Things he’d never tolerated - the loud way his brother chewed for example - became almost reassuring, while things that had never concerned him - like the coating of sticky sour sweat - were intolerable.

A couple of the guys - Levet, Corr, and Mereel - join him on his journey to the locker room after the match. He’d give it to Skirata, this place, their home, had all the bells and whistles. Everything he could want was here. Had he not just needed a quick wash down in the locker room he could have slipped off to the smaller bathroom shared between the twin bedrooms in his clan’s wing of the yaim. But no, the blood pumping and friendly competition had him feeling nostalgic. Locker room it was.

It takes him only a few minutes longer than the others to clean off, an extra few seconds of scrubbing with the mild soap that had followed them since their days on Kamino, while the others joked and laughed. Feeling clean made his bones settle, made them feel less like they wanted to rattle out of his skin.

Levet says something and Sev turns his attention. “Hmm?”

Levet has a towel slung low around his hips while he uses another to scrub at his damp hair. “You gotta excuse the boys. About earlier,” he says.

Sev thinks to tell him he didn’t have to do a kriffing thing, but this was Commander Tactful and even after his service to the GAR had ended, he was still trying to do what he’d always been good at.

Sev doesn’t need defusing. He wasn’t about to go off. He just needed the Yayax boys to understand that the Princess was a hands off, eyes to yourself affair. Levet tosses him a towel as Sev turns the water off. He catches it with one hand and bringings it directly to his face to rub residual droplets from his eyes.

Without the gloves Sev can hear the servos in Corr’s prosthetics whir as the younger clone dries himself off. “Sev is a little protective over his vod’ika,” the former trooper cracks.

That wasn’t quite what he was trying to make clear. He huffs into the towel. Is that really what it looked like to everyone?

“It’s understandable,” Levet agrees, “hear she’s been through a lot. There’s a lot of people who would take advantage of that; my boys aren’t them though.”

Mereel, who’s been quietly pulling clothes back on makes a discontent sound. “Seems to me if someone wanted to court the dal, they ought to make their intentions known the old fashioned way. You know, put it on public record.”

Sev can feel the Null ARC’s eyes on him. “You planning on making that move?” There’s a chill in the questions he doesn’t make any attempt to hide.

With the exception of the slow drip of water from the recently cut off shower heads, the room has gone quiet. Mereel stops where he stands, shirt halfway up his arms but not yet over his head. It’s an interesting time to realize Scorch isn't here to have his back if the sudden tension in the air ignites into something more.

“Are you?” It’s Corr’s smart mouth, he’s got a smile sliding across his face. “Because I was thinking I might stand a chance.”

In unison Sev and Mereel throw damp towels in his direction. He catches one easily with one prosthetic hand, the second - a half second behind - barely misses smacking him wetly in the face.

“Come on, really? Do you see this?” Corr turns to Levet motioning up and down his body with durasteel digits. “I could pull a woman like that.”

Levet, always level-headed and prudent doesn’t even favor him with a grin, “No, vod’ika you couldn’t.”

Mereel gives Corr a hearty pat on the back. “We can’t all be me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable woman out there for you.”

“Gee thanks, vod.” He makes to sound irritated but Sev can see the smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. The little bastard was still good diffusing a situation and he’s both irritated and grateful. He didn’t need a three on one but he also had no further intel on what was going on in the karking Null ARCs head.

Sev layers a fresh set of blacks under loose pants and a tunic. He collects his armor in a neat stack. No one else was putting there’s back on and he was going to take the opportunity to try without for once. He knew he’d likely wind up back in it before supper. Armor wasn’t just physical, it was mental as well.

He tries to tell himself that it’s got nothing to do with Jessa, but really it has everything to do with her. And what happened earlier. He follows Levet, Mereel, and Corr from the locker room but when they hang a right to head back outside he takes a sharp left toward his buir’s karyai. He waves off Levet’s curious over the shoulder glance. The others don’t attempt to wait or question.

It should probably sting, but it doesn’t. The Skiratas and Bralors were family but Sev only cared about two- three other people (and a mangy strill) when it came right down to it. Those were the opinions that mattered.

And he had karked up one of them. Or so he’d been told.

He heads straight toward the room he and Scorch shared, directly to the small desk that went mostly unused now that they’d set up shop in the armory. Jessa’s knife - his knife - his buir’s knife sat gleaming on the top, nearly sparkling against the dull grain of the wood, as innocuous as a honed blade of its caliber could be.

Maybe he should have gotten the story from her first. Maybe, as Scorch had suggested afterwards, it would be better to handle these things behind closed doors in the future. The thing is he hadn’t, and it wouldn’t have changed that he was going to take it back.

He was fracking impressed by the sheer gett’se it must have taken to stand up to a fully armored Mandalorian staring her down. She’d had fire in her eyes. It was like he could see her trying to decide what nice cozy intercostal space she could seat the knife in. For aruteii, it was fekking nehutyc. That still hadn’t meant the blade she was going to shank him with was hers.

It had always been too big. He knew the first time she’d held it to his throat - he swallows hard at the memory - that it didn’t fit well in her far smaller hands. He knew it was ungainly for her and awkward to wield but he hadn’t ever really meant for her to be in a position to use it. It was supposed to be a security blanket, something to pacify a terrified girl, but like everything else she’d surprised him. It wasn’t just standing toe to toe with him this morning. Wal’buir had told him what had happened in Keldabe. Before Mird had gotten help she’d been about to take on two fully trained Imperial troopers. Jessa was a smart girl and to Sev that meant she knew what she was getting into and not getting out of. The thought both set his teeth on edge and his kad to stiffening.

“Fekking Skirata.” Like his buir, Sev found it easy to blame the feisty old merc for everyday problems.

He grasps the handle and flips it in his grip. It was still a solid weapon, just not what she needed. He could fix that. Next time there was a blade between them she wouldn’t look at him like he’d done her wrong. Sev didn’t mind the anger and murder in her eyes but he didn’t ever want to see that look of betrayal again. He didn’t want to ever feel like it was her against him unless her life was on the line. He slips the blade into the sheath at his hip. It wiggles more than he liked but he didn’t intend on having it on him for long.

As he’s leaving, he catches a splash of forest green tucked under the covers of Scorch’s bed. He grabs the scarf without a second thought and folds it carefully as he heads out.

——

Parja’s in the kitchen. It’s nice because he hadn’t wanted to go looking. He hadn’t wanted to need to find an excuse to pull her away from the other women, or worse, her gossipy riduur. He knows the Mandalorian woman enough that if he could convince her it was important she’d keep things quiet. Fi, not so much.

She’s stacking a tray high with tidbits of cheese, meat, tiny pickled peppers, and bits of bread. His stomach growls and Parja’s head shoots to him.

“I’m gonna put a kriffing bell on you,” she curses quietly, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t have time for her ire, nor did he have the patience.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“After that stunt you pulled today? You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself.”

He tries to keep his lips from pulling back, he really does. He succeeds partly. Parja is undeterred by the silent snarl.

“You know she’s been a mess with the pair of you chakaar gone? You know she hasn’t been sleeping since Keldabe? You wouldn't know, because the first thing she gets out of you, Sev Vau, is nothing but trouble.” She’s pissed. He knows this because she’s gotten close and is using her index finger to jab an exclamation on each of her final words dead center of his chest. He probably deserves it.

“Can you do something for her then?” he questions. Parja takes a step back, sizes him up, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What is it?”

Sev pulls the knife from its spot at his hip. Parja’s wide eyes move from the blade to its handler and back. He spins it in his hand, presenting the handle like one would a peace offering.

“I need you to make this work for her. I thought maybe - maybe you could make it into two.”

Parja takes the offered weapon. She studies it with the eye of a craftsperson and the tactical experience of a Mandalorian. Sev waits patiently. Somewhere outside someone is laughing obscenely loud, Mij Gilamar by the sound of it. “So-“

“You know I’m no armorer, no blade smith either?”

“You’re family and I trust you.” He waits again. She’s searching his face. After a moment she nods slowly. He hopes she’s found what she needed.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” There’s a hint of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Say again.” Obviously he was commissioning her to make a set of blades. It really couldn’t be much more straightforward than that-

Parja rolls her eyes, humor once again gone. “Are you and Scorch courting her together or separately? And don’t think you can put me off or lie to me, Sev Vau.”

By Fett, he hated that word - courting - it sounded so… he just didn’t like it. He really didn’t want to have to go all the way to Keldabe to have this done, so he swallows down any apprehension and nods. “Together.”

“Good. Now let me get a few ideas from you.”

——

She sleeps light and dreamless in the spill of warm sunshine. Kad nestles close to her as she shelters his little body with her own, his small hands cling to the front of her tunic. She can hear the occasional voice of someone passing nearby, of footsteps approaching stopping and then continuing on. Months ago she’d have stiffened and been on edge. She’d never have freely offered her back to danger, but now it was different. Everything was.

Kad stirs as a familiar pair of boots scuffs closer.

“Ba’vodu…

“Udessi…” Jessa soothes, quietly trying to coax the child into just a few more minutes of blissful cuddles, “I’m right here.”

He wiggles in her grip, a giggle rising up. “Ba’vodu! Boom!”

Jessa rolls to her back bringing Kad with her. He’s off her chest and half stumbling to still-shirtless Scorch’s waiting arms.

“Boom! Boom!”

Scorch hoists the giggling child into the air. Kad squeals with delight as he’s easily caught. “Yeah, verd’ika, there’ll be some big ones tonight. I promise.”

It’s an ‘oh’ moment, a split second where Jessa realizes as many times as she’s seen the other men around her toting the kids around it’s never looked so attractive as Scorch doing it.

“Ba’vodu Mesh’la!” Kad whines and Jessa cocks her head as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s heard.

“I taught him that. You can thank me later.”

It takes a moment to realize what he’s said, and when her brain finally plays catch-up she feels her cheeks flush.

“I eat food now?” Kad is unconcerned with what is playing out as he pokes at his uncle until the bounty hunter has had enough and pretends to drop him to the ground. He catches him an inch before he hits the ground and Kad acts like it is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Another family member, Bardan, calls his name and he’s off like a shot the second his feet hit the ground without a single look back. It must be nice to be a child without a worry in the world.

Jessa pushes up, resting back on her outstretched hands. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen him out of beskar, the amount of times in this state of undress less than that.

The matte grey of his pauldrons had only served to highlight how broad his shoulders truly were, and now without the added cover she can get a good impression of the muscles that moved down from those shoulders. Biceps and forearms defined by his work lead to the hands she’d mentioned earlier. He flexes his arm. Jessa’s eyes snap back to his. Caught. Scorch grins from ear to ear.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Jessa nods. The sun still has her feeling drowsy and content. “Wasn’t ready to be done with it,” she admits. He drops down to his knees and then flops lazily at her side.

“I’m not Kad, but I’ll offer myself up as a cuddle buddy.” He holds one arm up, inviting her into his personal space like the night she’d had a nightmare and he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

A soft breeze blows cool against her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise to the surface. Jessa slides next to Scorch. It’s out of necessity, she tells herself. He’s a human furnace, suiting his name, and she was going to use that to enjoy the last bit of time she would get outside sans layer upon layer of clothing. His arm braces behind her back as she leans into his side.

“You fit good there,” he notes. Jessa says nothing. She feels good this close to him. The light scent of sweat and salt radiates from him.

“You stink,” she murmurs quietly.

“You like my stink,” he hums back. He doesn’t exactly smell bad and she doesn’t argue. She’d spent too many nights with her arms around one of his pillows, buried under his covers to deny what he said.

“What were you fighting about with Yover?” She watches him from the corner of her eye. Scorch looks out across the field, seemingly staring into nothing. There’s a boyish smirk plastered across his face that makes Jessa think all sorts of things, not least of which is what his lips might feel like if he kissed her again.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

Thankfully he’s good at chasing away her soft, reckless thought. It’s not the answer she wants and he laughs at her irritated growl. “If you keep making that sound how are people supposed to tell you and Sev’ika apart?”

She can think of a few ways, but keeps them to herself. She rolls away, putting a shred of distance between them so she can turn to look at him fully. She missed him - them - so much. Scorch opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it suddenly. It’s not like him. With a puff of air past his lips he flips onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Given the opportunity, Jessa seizes it. She lets her eyes rove now that he’s not watching. From his arms to his broad chest and tapered waist there is a light smattering of scars. None are particularly deep with the exception of a few to his forearms.

“I can feel you staring.” Brown eyes peek out from under his arm. “Something you like, Mesh’la?”

“You’ve got a lot of scars,” she notes, gaze not wavering from its exploration. Now that she’s begun she can’t find it in her to stop.

“Ah yes, my marks of personality.”

“Marks of…” She offers him a confused expression.

“Buir- Sarge back then, always said scars gave you personality. He helped shape our inherent charm. Have you seen Atin’s face? Vod has tons of personality.”

“Where did this scar come from?” Jessa reaches out and touches the slick looking slice on his flank. Goosebumps rise up under her fingers. A quick glance at his face shows nothing amiss.

“Sev has this great trick for slotting Trandoshans he picked up from the old man”

“But why do you have a scar?” She’s sure that her mind shouldn’t go where his words were leading it. Sev would never- well at least not Scorch, she thinks realistically.

“Spicy dreams.”

Jessa jerks. Scorch’s arm tightens around her. Sev blocks the sun from shining on the pair as he towers over the two.

“Aww Sev, was that a joke? I knew ya had it in ya.” Scorch sits up and Jessa follows, crossing her legs neatly as she does. Scorch eyes her. There must be something akin to the growing horror she was feeling painting her face because he tries to explain more.

“Sev doesn’t like to be woken from his beauty sleep.” As if to accentuate it, the man in question makes a lazy wave at his face as if to say ‘see’?

“I need every bit I can get.”

Undeterred by the look she is wearing, Scorch encourages her to stand up, giddiness and glee coloring his tone like a small child excited to show off a prized rock or funny shaped stick it had found.

“Show her!” Scorch nudges her gently until she has no choice but to stand with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a great trick.”

Sev rolls his eyes back but motions for her to stand in front of him. She’s still angry about this morning but her sense of curiosity is getting the better of her. Sev hesitates as if he knows he’s still not in her good graces but it lasts only a second before he pulls her close and spins her around. It’s a familiar position, the line of his body pressed against her back. They’ve done this once before and she flushes at the thought now of how vulnerable she’d been in the locker room and how Sev had taken care of her then.

“You ever deal with a lizard?” Sev’s voice is gruff. Jessa nods. Transdoshans made excellent slavers. Two had held her still while a fat fingered Gamorrean had branded her after she’d been bought. She presses back into Sev, seeking more of the heat he transferred without the layer of beskar between them.

“They got these… what do you call them?” He looks to Scorch.

“Plastron?”

“Like the belly of a lily turtle?” Jessa asks. “Mother kept them in the water garden.” A strange look crosses Scorch’s face as he nods at her explanation.

“Yeah, Princess, like a turtle,” Sev murmurs, reminding her how close he was. “So they’ve got these plastron across their bellies and the rest of their bodies have these thick scales that do a damn good job of blocking most sharp pointy things.” Sev’s hand comes to rest at her waist just back slightly, his thumb pressing into a spot above where she knew her kidney to sit. “Except right here, where the plastron and scales connect there is a soft spot.”

To emphasize the point, Sev presses his first two fingers into her flesh. Jessa winces and he lightens his touch enough to take the edge of the discomfort off.

“The trick Buir taught us is you’ve got to adjust your grip accordingly so when you get the chance-“ his fingers press forward, sliding along her side til they reach her belly, “you can spill their guts.”

The way he lets them sit there for a minute before he steps away makes her tummy flutter. She’s glad for the separation. Jessa folds herself faintly back into a seated position.

Curious eyes watch from afar. Jessa feels them acutely and glances past Sev. Ordo Skirata is not being covert. He holds eye contact for a second before moving on, one of his young sons clinging to his leg.

“Wonder what Ord’ika is up to?” Scorch says, more to himself than anyone.

“Better be minding his own damn business.” Sev’s voice is a reassuring growl as he flanks her other side.

——-

His belly is full of spicy skewered nerf and deliciously fatty bits of shatual. Sev has never been one to search for a buzz in the bottom of a bottle like some of his vode (Scorch included), but a bottle of sweet Ne’tra gal dangles lazily between his fingers. The abnormal heat from earlier in the day has bled away to an appropriately crisp autumn evening as the sun set an hour before. It felt good.

He alternates between staring up to the cloudless expanse of sky and taking the occasional pull from the bottle in his hand, allowing himself a moment or two to enjoy the sweet barley and hops of traditionally brewed ale. Unfettered by the light pollution of the larger Mandalorian cities to the south, the stars shine like gemstones above. It wouldn’t last long. Fireworks were coming next - Scorch had already kriffed off with Corr for last minute preparations. They’d be lucky if Doc wasn’t working on a new prosthetic by morning with those two at work.

After fireworks the kids would be shuffled off to bed and - so he was told - the real party would start. It sounded like a big excuse to drink too much and do something incredibly stupid by an open flame. Probably would be fun. He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. He’d been through a few celebrations since being brought to Kyrimorut, but this was his first fall and Scorch had been doing his best for months to talk it up and try to get Sev as excited as he was.

He’d seen lots of things blow up in his life. From one side of the shabla galaxy to the other, he’d seen enough to consider himself an expert of sorts.

Jessa lies in the grass by his side. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above. She’s been quiet since she laid down next to him. It was wrong. She usually said something. Anything. Most times he’d have no fault in the silence, but all around them people were talking and laughing and they were just there. Being weird. Somehow he thinks it’s probably residual from this morning. He sighs heavily. Blue eyes flash out of the corner but then focus back above.

“You looking at the stars?”

Jessa makes a soft hum of agreement.

“Kriff…” he curses lowly, turning toward her, “You still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” And Palpatine was a well loved public figure.

“You were,” he asserts, “You looked like you were ready to slot me”

“I would never.” She finally turns, fixing him with eyes that affirm his previous assertion.

“But you wanted to.”

She sighs, rolling onto her side and tucking an arm under her head. In the growing dark with her hair spilling around her she is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally willing to admit that attraction.

“Too much beskar,” she states bluntly, “Besides, I’d miss you if you were dead.” There’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Sev feels a strange pull in his chest somewhere between asphyxiation and taking a barely controlled ascent down a fast line.

Her smile drops away. “Sev?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“If you ever do something like that again? In front of the rest of the family? I will do it.”

The bark of laughter that leaves him has heads turning all around them. Curious and concerned eyes fall on the pair. Jessa’s eyes narrow. That feeling in his chest intensifies. She looks like a pissed off loth cat waiting to attack. Fekking gorgeous.

“Roger that, Princess. I won’t even fight back.”

She softens visibly, pushing herself into a seated position only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Good.”

With that settled, the pair turn their eyes back up to the darkening sky. The silence doesn’t feel weird anymore with the issue between them blasted to dust.

Sev feels content in the moment.

The sound of the first mortar being released into the air catches his attention. The light of the small explosion comes just a few beats after in the form of neon red that lights the sky. It’s impressive. More follow at regular intervals, different colors and sizes, sounds and shapes. Like burning flowers in the night sky they flash to life only to die a few moments later. The smell of explosives rolls like a fog from the launch point to the onlookers.

Sev glances around and finds the small children staring transfixed as the fireworks erupt into life, their tiny mouths cracked in o’s of delight. He tries to remember the first time he ever saw anything explode or heard a bomb and he can’t quite place how old he must have been. He’d been fascinated, but not nearly as much as Scorch had. Scorch had been obsessed. No one loved blowing something up as much as his vod.

The next mortar explodes with all the force of a sonic boom and Sev finally notices Jessa’s stiff posture next to him, the way she twitches when each firework ignites.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The words rush out of her mouth in a way that lets him know she’s not.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

Her head swings around. “I’m not-“ A pair of twin explosions follow each other in rapid succession and she nearly comes out of her skin. Sev remembers watching another squad when they were just tiny cadets, the way they had all crowded in around a vod who obviously was having issues with the sounds, pressing in until their pod mate had calmed.

“Come here.” He motions to the spot in front of him. Jessa shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she lies again.

Sev huffs. Did she not see that he knew? Stubborn dal. He should let her stew in her own fear. That would teach her, but then he’d have to listen to a lecture from Scorch and he hated when he got lectured. Before the next can go off he leans over, closing the paltry distance between them and loops his arm around her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her effortlessly into his lap, spreading his legs and tucking her into the spot between them. She struggles for a second. He notices, not for the first time, the she never curses, not in Mando’a nor in Basic. He thinks if she did she would be right now. She squirms against him and he regrets not putting armor back on.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts into her ear. She stills and Sev takes the opportunity to wind an arm around her and pull her tight against him. Sev doesn’t see the eyes that have followed them or the way other members of the homestead lean in to whisper to one another because Jessa is relaxing back into his grip, melding with him and his brain isn’t sure what to do. The next volley of decorative ordinance pop and she barely twitches. The purple shimmer of rhydonium paints her features in a soft glow as it fizzles out of existence.

He holds her tighter and by the round after she doesn’t move at all. Her head rocks back and rests against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her all along the front of his body and his mind travels to places it hasn’t in ages.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she murmurs.

“If you say you were fine, I swear-“

“They kept the barracks near whatever tunnel we were working in at that time,” she begins.

Sev nods. This was a Kappa Black thing. He should have known.

“We worked in shifts. You had to try to sleep while they were blowing through the asteroid around you.”

It made sense. If you’d seen any amount of osik the galaxy had to offer you weren’t likely to leave it all behind.

“Odds are you're not gonna get blown up here.”

“How do you shut it off so easily?” She twists, glancing up at him.

“Turn off what?”

“The fear.”

Sev stops. He’s never really dwelled on it. “I don’t turn it off. I focus it. Fear is a tool.” He recites an early lesson. “It’s a blade. You either use it on your quarry or you use it on yourself. Never been much on killing myself.”

Jessa goes quiet, thoughtful. She wiggles in closer as reds and greens and blues light up the sky in front of her.

“Cold?” It seems like the right thing to say. Sev had seen a holomovie once on a stakeout that reminded him of this. He’d had to read lips because he’d been perched in a Corrie window watching it from his scope in a building two over. He got the gist of it though. Romantic osik that made him want to gag on the warra nuts he’d smuggled along. Now though it doesn’t feel nearly as unrealistic as he’d thought back then.

“Maybe a little.”

From the cargo pocket of his tac pants Sev retrieves her scarf, the same one she’d left on Scorch’s bed earlier. It’s not easy to unfurl it one handed, but he manages and drapes it over the front of them. She makes a soft sound, a sigh of contentment as she burrows under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

——

If the flames of the bonfire grow any higher, Walon is sure they’ll be able to see it from Keldabe. Not that you could tell any of the celebrating adiike that. No, drums and Bes’bev and various stringed instruments of unknown origin had been pulled out and now not only was their fire and drink but also music to go with it all.

Rav is beating out a rhythm on her bucket next to Atin, using a hide covered drum of his own making. The rest of the Bralors take turns on the winds and strings. Fi chortles out a bawdy song about a twi’lek dancer and the battalion of troopers that had loved her. Walon can make out the words “seduced by her lekku of love” before uproarious laughter drowns him out. Off to the side, Laseema rubs tears from her eyes barely able to control her laughter.

“They don’t work like that vod!” She manages to get out between giggles.

“Atin?” Someone asks. The former Commando in question offers a toothy grin but says nothing. Walon rolls his eyes. He’d like to think his adiike were better behaved, but Scorch is taking shots of ti’haar with Corr in celebration of a pyrotechnic display gone well. Sev, while not drinking like his vod is encouraging it.

“You gonna let a trooper get one up on you?”

Jessa is pressed shoulder to shoulder between the pair. Her cheeks are flushed with life and she looks happier than he’s ever seen as she fidgets with the thick braid of hair draped over her shoulder. Corr offers her a shot and she takes it like one of the Commandos. She barely flinches. Mandokarla indeed.

Even slightly inebriated himself, Walon can see Scorch’s keen gaze watch her like a mother nuna. Sev’s is more fixed on Corr. A pair of guard massiffs if he's ever seen them.

No, Walon didn’t need to worry about her overdoing it with Sev and Scorch present. Likely, he should be more concerned of their safety should they need to cut her off. The murderous look she’d given his sharpshooter this morning spoke volumes of the personality that was starting to bloom.

“Vau.” His musings are painfully disrupted by the shorter merc easing himself into a sitting position next to him.

“Skirata,” Walon greets.

“We need to talk about earlier.”

Like an obnoxious fly buzzing about, Walon tries to ignore him. Still, Kal’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his skull until, like a fly he cannot help but give him his full, irritated attention.

“You’re trying to ruin my Kyr’vhetine, aren’t you?”

Kal gives him a bemused smile that slips quickly into something more serious. Yes, he was going to ruin it.

Walon’s eyes drift to his children. The makeshift band has begun to play a song the is unmistakably Ryl. It’s heavy drum lead beat and accompanying strings lends itself for dance and Laseema throws her head back and laughs from her spot near Parja.

“Am I being called out?” She asks the group of musicians. There’s an uproarious cheer as she sets her drink down and pushes up off the makeshift log bench. “Fine then.”

Walon watches her bunch her tunic in her hand, tying the loose fabric just above her hip. Blue skin peeks out as she extends her hands at her sides and begins to dance.

Traditional Ryl dancing is almost impossible to look away from. The movements are fluid and driven by the rhythm of the music being played, steady drum beats with a mixture of plucked and strummed strings.

It’s not merely a dance but a delicate balancing act played between the musicians and the dancer. Laseema knows this game better than many he’s seen. Her hips shimmy and roll with the beat as she steps delicately about the circle of aliit. There’s cheers and hoots from the crowd and the smile that graces her face is radiant. Like so many others she had blossomed and truly begun to thrive in Kyrimorut. He was sure no small amount of that was in part to Atin. While he’d taken the Skirata name, Walon had quietly patted himself on the back for creating the man and survivor he was today.

“The auction…” Kal begins and Walon sighs deeply. From his spot at its Master’s foot, Mird glances up, tongue nearly too large for its mouth lolling out to the side. It’s warm by the fire but the strill is loathe to be anywhere Walon isn’t.

“The auction,” Walon agrees. The thought gives him a headache. A year ago he had just become reacquainted with the idea of having an ad and now here he was with three healthy, somewhat adjusted adiike. He was loathe to upset the newly formed balance, but he knew somewhere deep in his gut - as he didn’t trust his dead heart on such matters - that they needed to be part of whatever was set to happen. Each of the Cuy’val Dar sitting around the fire had trained multiple squads and so few were accounted for outside of those that had already been known to have marched on. If there were others they deserved a chance and their buir'e deserved a chance to give it to them.

Kal seems to understand he’s finally got his attention. When he speaks it’s not of someone trying to convince a friend in a fool's errand but instead a hardened mercenary beginning to plan for an op.

“We’ve got so little time to prepare. The lads will do fine but-“

Walon holds a hand up, “I know. I know.” His gaze travels over to how newest acquisition. Laseema is pulling the giggling girl to her feet while Scorch eggs her on. Sev watches with his hands on his knees. He appears relaxed, laconic, but Walon knows what lies beneath - always alert and on guard.

Laseema slows her movements, working her hips in a tight figure eight and Jessa imitates. It’s uncoordinated at first, but with each rotation she seems to sync into the music a little more, so Laseema shows her another step and then another. Parja joins the fray with absolutely no rhythm but shereshoy that cannot be argued with.

“You can’t deny that she’s our only option.”

“I never said I did.” Walon watches as Mereel enters the small fray of dancers and pulls Laseema close. Fi slides in and grabs his wife. He’s just as off rhythm as she, but they both seem oblivious to anything but one another. Jessa spins happily, the green scarf tied in a triangle at her hips twirls out like the layers of a skirt and Walon can imagine her being spun around a dance floor in another life. She’s happy and content and what is about to come could very well ruin that but she’d do it. He knew that in the same way he knew Scorch would spring to his feet the second one of Yayax squad attempted to move in her direction. Honestly, it’s astounding it takes as long as it does but after the correction earlier maybe it’s not too shocking. It’s Cov this time who gets two steps to near before Scorch is sliding in between the Yayax squad leader and the girl. Jessa only seems to see Scorch, beaming up at him as he slips in behind her.

Walon raises a brow. He hadn’t expected either of his lads to move like that.

“Sev and Scorch are not going to like this, I take?”

Walon chuckles. “I don’t imagine, but they also know their place and what an op like this means. They can give their hormones a backseat long enough to get the job done.”

“That’s going to be a mess when they work that out between them.”

From her spot pressed against Scorch’s chest Jessa finds Sev. He’s nursing another drink, only the second of the night by Walon’s assessment. She reaches out, palm up and curling her finger. Sev raises a brow and shakes his head, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Jessa sticks out her lower lip and pouts. Someone shouts about making her the filling in a commando sandwich. Kal chokes, coughing violently into his drink.

Walon’s never known Sev to willingly do something commonly perceived as fun and dancing… he imagined it would be a cold day on the plains before he’d see his Ad’ika do that.

“I don’t doubt they’ll work it out in a way all their own.”

“That’s what I worry about.”

From the corner of his eyes, Walon studies the Skirata patriarch. He considered (if only to himself) him a friend for a few years now - since Mygeeto at very least - but there was a time when he’d have happily put his fist through the other man’s orbital bone if given the chance. Sometimes he still said things that made Walon’s old arthritic knuckles ache in anticipation.

“They’re not yours to worry on. I feel you have enough without adding my adiike to your plate.”

Kal hums and Walon knows this will not be the last time he will have this conversation. The song being played ends as he’s thinking of the inevitable irritation of having to repeat himself.

“Jessa.” The girl turns her head at her buir’s sharp call of her name. Scorch’s hands tense where they rest at her hips, but she shimmies out of the bounty hunter's grip.

“Yes, buir?” The musicians are mumbling amongst themselves about what to play next.

“Naberrie Waltz.”

Confusion flitz across her face, settling along with the crinkles between her eyes.

Walon is undeterred. “Do you remember it?” Jessa nods once and Walon rises to his weary feet. Scorch hover protectively behind her. With an irritated flick of the wrist Walon shoos him away.

“Show me the waltz.”

“But the music isn’t-“

“I’m aware, Ad’ika. I’m sure your parents spent large sums of money teaching you how to do things that didn’t always fit what you wanted at the time. Has their money gone to waste?”

A bemused look crosses her face as Walon offers a hand. It’s been a long time since he’s waltzed. Far longer than his new daughter has probably been alive but the steps come back as if it was just yesterday as a light hand on her waist guides her in a slow turn. He knows eyes are on them. He can see the flash of mirth in the eyes of the other Cuy’val Dar but that is none of his concern. Jessa’s spine is straight, her head, carriage uniformly perfect. Even though the song is all wrong she doesn’t miss a step. She slipped into it as easily as he feared she would. She could do what Kal was asking, maybe not perfect but she could figure out how to play the part. He glances down and catches her wondering eyes.

“Very good, Ad’ika. Very good.”

She smiles at the praise and allows him to continue to spin her around. Sev and Scorch’s looming shadows stand at the edge of the circle. Those two weren’t going to like what was to come one bit.

———

aglist: @bylightofdawn @leias-left-hair-bun @skdubbs @passionofthesith @haloangel391 @fractiouskat @peacelandbread @clonewarslover55 @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie

Mando’a translation

Kyr’vhetine Tuur- harvest day (one of four Mando holidays @crimson and I dreamed up)

Mando’ade- sons and daughters of Mandalore

Adiike-children

Riddur- spouse

Din’kartay: sit-rep, or sharing of information/planning

Gett’se- balls

Nehutyc- gutsy (also feisty)

#soul lies #clone Commando sev #clone Commando Scorch #clan Vau #recommend #republic Commando #sev/oc/scorch

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onebatch2batch · 3 years

Note

Heyo, dialogue prompts: 14 or 30? 😊

HI THIS WAS FROM FOREVER AGO BUUUUUT that's my m.o. so here we are. Hope you like it!!

And no, I'm never going to stop writing different versions of Frank and Karen getting together, you can't make me :)

14. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Frank can practically hear David scheming, and he’s proven right when an anthropomorphic mop of hair bends into his line of sight and he says, “Hey, remember in the bunker, when we were still on the run?”

They’re both standing in David’s front yard. Frank’s van is in need of an oil change and a replacement filter and since he’s not keen on anyone else working on his getaway vehicle, he called up David to request use of his paved, suburban driveway. It’s been a few weeks since he’s managed to get over here, and David had instantly agreed on the condition that Frank stay for dinner. It’s a beautiful summer day, even if it’s a little hot, and he’s feeling a little off-kilter from the sounds of children playing all around. It’s so painfully normal that for a moment he’d regretted asking, and then David had offered him a drink. The taller computer genius doesn’t know shit about cars, so he’s alternating between fetching more beers and talking Frank’s ear off. It’s been about an hour now, and Frank has slowly relaxed into the background noise.

“Yeah,” Frank responds dryly around the flashlight between his teeth. He’s elbow deep in grease and not really interested in where this line of questioning is going to go, but David has other ideas.

“Uh huh. You know, when you got yourself on the news after that kid held Karen hostage?”

If Frank is affected by the name, all David notices is a sharp glance. “Yeah.”

“And how you freaked out and begged for my help and said she was family?”

Frank straightens and sets the flashlight down on the bumper of the car. “You got a point, Lieberman? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Was that all just bullshit, or what?”

They stare at each other. Frank’s jaw ticks.

“...what.”

“Thought so.”

“No, what?”

“Well you made this huge declaration and then almost got yourself killed trying to rescue her so--”

“God damn it, Lieberman, you’re never going to let that go, are you--”

David shakes his head, exasperated. “I mean, we haven’t even gotten to meet her yet and it’s been six months since Madini used her government wiles to give you a new identity--”

Frank scowls. “It’s none of your--”

The other man cuts him off quickly, hands up. To Frank’s immense displeasure, the other man looks less cowed and more placating. “I’m just saying, invite her to dinner next week. What harm is there? Maybe something good might happen to you for once, god forbid.” His friend stares him down, using every couple of inches of height to try and look intimidating. Of course it doesn’t work, but Frank is too busy thinking about having a family dinner with Karen, with his friends, like a normal person. Like a couple. He realizes too slow that David is leering at him, pleased.

“David, shut the hell up.”

“You’re blushing. Is that a yes? I’ll tell Sarah.”

Karen doesn’t question it when Frank calls her up after half a year of radio silence. She asks if it's a casual dress dinner and what kind of wine to bring, and then announces she’s got to go and she’ll see him Friday at six sharp.

He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than her just telling him to shove it.

Friday creeps up on him, and by the time he parks outside of her apartment it hasn’t really sunk in that he’s about to take Karen Page to a domestic dinner in the suburbs. Because it’s definitely not a date, even though it kind of is. It’s the stuff he used to do with Maria and the kids all the time when he was on leave; double dates and cook outs and all that crap. He’s rusty as hell and usually shit company, but they keep asking him back. And now, he’s throwing Karen into the mix.

It’s a feeling similar to being shot in the head and waking up in a hospital room. Disorienting and uncomfortable as hell.

He picks her up in the van, leaning against the side of it as he waits. The Lieberman’s neighborhood is outside the city, about a twenty minute drive. It’s going to give them plenty of time to talk, and he’d barely restrained himself from looking up conversation starters online before leaving his place. He doubts there’s any suggestions for a vigilante-cum-construction worker who’s picking up a date he’s spoken a handful of words to for the first time in six months. He’s just considering cancelling the whole thing when the door to her building opens and she steps out.

He’s seen Karen a lot of ways. He’s seen her in pencil skirts and heels and blouses, in tshirt and jeans, bruised and bloody. He’s never seen her in a sundress with her pinked shoulders bare to the world and strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair is in a long braid over her shoulder. She looks fucking resplendant. Absolutely divine. Fucking poetry in motion.

He’s fucked.

“Hi,” she greets, coming to a stop in front of him. She’s got a bottle of wine in her hands. Her eyes punch little, individual question marks into his skin when she searches his face.

“Hey.” He inhales, bracing for her reaction. His throat closes up when he gets a whiff of her perfume. So familiar from the handful of times he’s been close enough to smell it--something soft and floral, something that makes his head swim. He thinks back to that moment so many months ago, swaying together in the elevator, her skin against his, her perfume subtle under the metallic tang of blood.

Karen doesn’t immediately go for interrogating him. She only lifts the bottle in her hand. “I brought a white, is that okay?”

Wary relief loosens the knot at the top of his spine. He nods, pushing off the car to open her door. “Sure.”

When Karen climbs in, carefully arranging her skirt around her, the dark interior contrasting with the soft yellow of her dress, Frank thinks about a conversation with Curtis all those months ago. Wonders when the kick is coming.

They spend the first ten minutes looking out separate windows and listening to the radio. After that, Karen starts talking like she’s made her mind up about the evening is going to go. She asks him how he’s been, if he’s gotten a job, how Dinah is, what the Liebermans are like. Nothing is accusatory. They could be old friends passing one another on the street, the way she’s talking. Almost like she’s talking to a scared dog. Coaxing it out of a corner.

Guess he deserves that.

By the time he pulls onto the appropriate street, it almost feels normal. They’ve fallen into a familiar back and forth that’s easy to keep up with, and when he opens her door she gives him a small grateful smile, accepting his hand on the way down.

He’s not disappointed when she lets go to straighten the fabric of her dress. He’s not.

As always, the Lieberman household is an explosion of domesticity. There’s shoes on the stairs, a sweet smelling candle burning on the coffee table, toys and books strewn over the floor. Pictures line the walls. When Frank knocks on the door, Zach opens it like he’s been waiting for them.

“ Hi, Pete!” he greets excitedly, and then his eyes land on Karen. “Who’s that?”

“Hello, I’m Karen Page.” She crouches down to look him in the eye and smiles. “You must be Zach, right?”

He flushes, twisting his fingers nervously. “Yeah. Are you Pete’s girlfriend?”

They’re saved from answering by a sudden, high pitched shriek. “Frank!!”

Karen manages to stand out of the way just in time for Leo to come barrelling down the stairs directly into Frank, hugging him tightly around the middle.

“Frank, Dad says you were here Saturday but you were gone before I left Ann’s house!!” she pulls away and waves a book at him. “I’m reading the book you told me about!”

He grins down at her. “I waited around for ya, but your mom said you wouldn’t be home until later. How’s the book, huh?”

She scrunches her nose. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know. Are you Karen?”

Karen laughs. “I sure am. Leo, right?”

“That’s me. Come on, my mom is in the kitchen.” She nudges Zach and then four of them head into the other room. Sarah Lieberman is standing behind the kitchen counter, chopping up a head of lettuce. When they walk in, she beams at them.

“Hey guys, welcome! Hang on, let me finish this. Pete, David’s out in the garage trying to fix the sprinklers. Can you--?”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Say no more.”

He lifts his brows at Karen, but she gives him a jerk of her head. Frank huffs and stalks off after kissing Sarah on the cheek, Leo trailing after him talking about sprinkler systems and tools. Zach joins his mother behind the counter and peers at Karen curiously. She sets the bottle of wine down.

“So Karen!” Sarah exclaims, dumping the lettuce into a bowl. “Let’s get you a glass of wine and chat. How’s that sound?”

They end up on the patio furniture. After completing the salad and sides, Sarah turns on the grill and then ushers them to the corner of the patio, refilling their glasses.

“So,” she starts, and peers at Karen over the rim of her glass. “I’m going to be forward, but I get the feeling you’ll appreciate that. What’s the deal with you and Pete? Sorry--habit. Frank.”

Karen could have guessed this was coming, even if she expected a little more subtlety. And Sarah’s right, she appreciates the bluntness. It gives her a chance to answer in kind.

“I don’t know.” She runs a finger over the rim of her glass, frowning. “I haven’t--we haven’t spoken in...a while. Six months, actually. And the last time I saw him..well, it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I thought I scared him off, actually.”

“How so?”

And the story falls out of her mouth, in pieces. She hasn’t spoken to anyone about Frank, about her feelings for him--the good or bad--or about that afternoon in the hospital. “--and I thought...I thought maybe he would finally kiss me.” She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “And then he pulled that I’m not a hero bullshit and that’s the last I saw of him. Until he called this week.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “That sounds like him. Honey, did you know when we first met he was gathering information on David?”

“Ah, yes. I was the one who found David for him.” She grimaces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be! We’re lucky he came looking. Without him…” she shrugs. “I would still be a widow. And my kids still wouldn’t have their father. I’m just trying to say he may do things backwards, but he ends up doing things for the right reasons. Even if it takes him time to figure that out.”

Dinner goes well. Dinner goes really, really well. Not that Frank was worried--there isn’t a person alive who can sit down with Karen Page and at the very least admire her. The Liebermans fall in love with her immediately. The kids demand that she stay for a board game after dinner. Leo brags about her science project. Zach shyly asks if Karen likes football. Sarah drills her with questions about her job. David keeps her laughing while stupid jokes and send Frank knowing glances throughout dinner that makes Frank want to throw peas at him.

Karen is charming, sweet, and great with the kids. She gets along with David and Sarah, and sends him warm, unsure smiles until dessert.

They play Apples to Apples, and the kids decimate. Karen is a close third. Frank loses terribly, but he’s still busy ruminating over the warm feeling in his chest at the cacophony of noise that surrounds him as everyone submits to another peal of laughter to notice.

“Frank,” Leo says innocently once they’ve put the board game away and Sarah has told the kids it’s time for bed. She stands in the doorway to the kitchen and looks at him sternly, hands on her hips. “Please bring Karen around more. It’s not fair that you get to hog her and we’ve just met.”

“Leo, that’s Miss Page to you.” Sarah tries for sharpness but ends up laughing. “Off to bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Bye Miss Page!” the kids chorus, and then it’s just the adults.

“Great kids,” Karen laughs. “Smart, too. You’re in trouble.”

Sarah sighs and pats her husband’s cheek fondly. “Yeah, we know. Somehow both of them got his brain.”

David chuckles, turns quickly to press a kiss to his wife’s palm. “At least they didn’t get my hair,” he jokes.

Karen sneaks a glance at Frank, then quickly looks away. He catches it, just briefly, as does David.

“Sarah, we should probably make sure the kids are actually brushing their teeth. I’ll tackle Leo if you tackle Zach, tag team it? We’ll be right back, guys.”

It’s quiet in the kitchen after that. Karen takes a sip of her wine and taps her fingers. There’s something on her mind, he can tell. When she doesn’t say anything he leans forward to capture her gaze. “What is it?”

“Why now, Frank?” Karen asks.

The conversation he’s been dreading. A feeling of shame bubbles up so suddenly it nearly knocks him off his chair. He scratches his neck for no reason other than to expel the nervous energy building in him.

“I didn’t want to…” There’s no use pretending like they’re talking about something else, not when she’s staring at him like that. Like she's been waiting all night for this conversation while he’s been tricking himself into thinking it may not happen. His finger dances restlessly on the table top. “I didn’t want to get you sucked back in.”

“Into what?” She arches a brow. “You?”

“Me. My life. My goddamn baggage. I know you deserve better than me.” He clears his throat. “So I wanted you to have a chance to live your life without my ghosts hanging around.”

“Frank Castle,” Karen sighs, exasperated, “please don’t tell me you’re making decisions for me. And that still doesn’t answer my question--why now?”

His expression tightens. “C’mon Karen. I’m just tryin’ to keep you safe--”

“How many times do I have to tell you--”

“As many as it ta--”

“Frank--” David steps into the kitchen, Sarah in tow. They pause, looking between the two people seated at the table awkwardly. “Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“No, David. Thank you both for tonight. I think I should be going.” Karen stands and looks at Frank. “I have loved you for two years, Frank. No amount of avoiding me or trying to protect me is going to change that. Excuse me.”

And then she walks away.

He catches up to her just down the street. As soon as he sees that familiar head of blond hair he pulls the van over and hops out, jogging to catch up. Karen glances at him and then pauses, as if waiting for something.

“Let me drive you home,” he asks. “Please.”

He doesn’t take her home straight away; she doesn’t ask. Frank drives until he finds a spot overlooking the water. The heat has finally broken and a cool breeze comes in through the open window, stirring Karen’s hair. He shuts off the engine. They sit in silence while he tries to decide what to say.

“I guess I should start by apologizing,” he says finally, tapping the steering wheel. He’s past nervous, he just wants to fix his own screw up. “I’m sorry, Karen. I don’t want to make any decisions for you. I should have--I should have talked to you about it. I should have started this conversation a long time ago.”

“So, start it.” She’s watching him, waiting. There’s a tense expression on her face--like she’s either trying not to cry, or trying not to smile. Or tell him off. He’s not sure which, yet.

Frank clears his throat. “Okay. Uh. I’m not gonna make excuses, I’m just gonna tell you what I know. I know that I have done some shit, and I’m going to continue doing that shit. I’m not ever gonna be normal. I know that you’re smart as hell, and you check me, and you’re a fucking force of nature. I know that I have been telling myself that you deserve more than some--fuckin’ vigilante who wakes up to nightmares more than he doesn’t. I know you deserve to be safe and happy. You deserve more than I can give you. But uh,” he takes her hand cautiously, waits for her to pull away, relaxes when she doesn’t, “...I wanna try.”

“You gotta mean it, Frank,” she says, voice watery. “You better fucking mean it.”

“I mean it. I swear to Christ, I mean it.”

She pulls her hand away and for a millisecond, he thinks he’s said something wrong. Then she’s unbuckling her seat belt and clamoring over the armrest into his lap. It’s not the most majestic first kiss he’s ever had (of which there are few) but her breath is hot on his lips and her fingernails scrape gently over his scalp as if entreating him closer. Frank makes a low groan that he hasn’t heard from himself in a long time--too long--and then Karen shifts and his breath catches in his throat. The heat of her, all wrapped up in his arms, her hair falling over one shoulder as she peppers his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw with the tiniest of kisses.

He could have ruined this without even knowing. He almost ruined it before it even happened.

“I do want you, you know,” Karen murmurs against the skin of his jaw, fingers grasping his shirt. “All of you.”

“I know.”

“Does that scare you?”

He pushes gently until he can look her in the eyes. “A little,” he admits. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re doing okay so far,” she says, smiling. “Now that you’ve pulled your self-deprecating head out of your ass.”

“Took me long enough.” He cradles the back of her head in one hand, drawing her closer until their lips meet again. They’re both uncomfortable at the weird angle but it’s not until the horn beeps once, gaining the attention of a woman walking her dog, that Karen reluctantly returns to her seat.

They work to catch their breaths, watching the water.

“The Liebermans aren’t upset I left so--...abruptly, right?”

“Nah,” Frank chuckles, grasping her hand. He finds an indescribable amount of comfort in brushing his thumb over the ridges over her knuckles. “Actually, I think they like you better for it. Sarah almost chased me out of the house with a goddamn spatula.”

“I knew I liked her. Take me home? I’ll make coffee.”

“It’s a date.”

Frank’s phone lights up that night. If he were to reach an arm over and hold it up to see, David’s text would read, WELL?? Did you get the girl, Lloyd Dobler?

But he doesn’t. He tugs Karen closer and goes back to sleep.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastle fanfic #my writing #answered #cant-think-of-anything-creative

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